


Manhunt

by Fadedwords



Category: DanPlan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Crime, Criminal investigator - Freeform, Depression, Drug Cartel, Drug Dealing, Fluff, Gay Panic, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstanding, Morality, Panic Attacks, Private Investigator, Yikes, some side characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-05-15 09:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fadedwords/pseuds/Fadedwords
Summary: Stephen’s parents are at the centre of a drug cartel leading black market crimes. And Stephen? He wants nothing to do with it. He withdraws, moves to Montreal, and lives a simple life as a copywriter under the name Stephen Lim. He must stay off the radar, at all costs.When he meets the owner of the flower shop across his street, his unsteady life on the run takes a dramatic turn. He lets down his walls for the adorable Hosuh Lee. And now his life and living is threatened by the sharp, capable and deadly criminal investigator, Daniel Lim.Hosuh’s and Stephen’s lives intertwine, and they’re thrown into dilemmas of morality and allegiance, law and love.





	1. Chapter 1

The office was quiet, especially at this hour. The whirring of the air-conditioning, the constant hum of computers and the rapid tapping of keyboards were all he noticed. Grabbing the mug of coffee on his table, he drew a long slurp and turned his attention to the corner of his monitor screen. 

It was 3.16pm. 

He leaned back in his chair, lazily moving his mouse and opening the mailbox. There wasn’t much going on in the advertising firm he worked for at the moment. It was late January, and the rush for advertising around New Year and Christmas had been dealt with. His main responsibilities lay now with training the junior copywriters and tying up loose ends with some clients. 

He was to take the latest employee, a junior copywriter, along with him to the next meeting scheduled for 3.30pm. It was a meeting regarding a new client who had requested for advertising for a flower shop of some sort. He found it odd, of course, that this client would choose to contact the firm after the New Year rush. Flowers were very popular around the time, and it would have done this client much better if they had reached out earlier. 

Oh well, he wasn’t here to pick on people’s choices. They were quite literally paying him to write them slogans and come up with concepts. 

He took a long draw of the last of his coffee and set the mug back onto his desk. Pushing out his chair, he got up and stretched, immediately relaxed by the satisfying pop in his back. He was gathering up his files and writing materials as the junior employee rounded over to his desk, head tucked into a shy bow. He was a young man, small, scrawny and bespectacled; the exact portrayal of the stereotype of a copywriter. 

“Mr Lim, the meeting...” the boy trailed off. 

“Oh, urgh, don’t call me Mr Lim. We don’t need that decorum, plus it sounds like I’m your gross Asian uncle. Stephen’s fine. Got your stuff?” he called, stepping away from his desk and pushing the chair in.

“Yes, I have my laptop for notes.” 

“Good, then let’s go, sonny.” 

The meeting room was even quieter than the office outside. The creative director was sitting at the seat closest to the head of the long mahogany conference table. The art director of Stephen’s creative team had not arrived.

Stephen and his junior took a seat each next to the creative director, who offered them a passing glance. Stephen smiled, and the director — Jay — looked up at him again, gaze latching on this time. 

“Yo, Stephen! How’s it been, man?” Jay chimed, setting down his pen and grinning widely at Stephen.

“Eh, with the big New Years’ rush over, things have been slightly better,” he said, shrugging. He realised his junior looked absolutely petrified at the casual exchange. 

“Got any writer’s block? I hope not, we’ve still got this client to do,” Jay said with a sly smile, suggesting that his choice of words was intentional.

“Stop being a hoe, Jay. Also, no one beats Stephen at his job, and you know that full well.” Stephen smirked, rolling his eyes. He spread his arms across the table as a grandiose, proud gesture. 

“Oh, Stephen, I’m not the hoe; I’m just trying to score you a date is all. I just think you’ll be happy to know that _this_ cute boy,” Jay smirked, pulling out a folder which contained the advertising brief submitted by the client, as well as client details, “is our client.” Stephen’s junior, at this point, was mortified.

“How’d you get this?” Stephen mumbled, taking the folder hesitantly, leafing through the papers within. Upon seeing Stephen’s reaction, Jay’s smirk grew with mirth. 

Jay cocked his head challengingly. “Oh, you know, the regular. The administrative staff gave me this since our dear client isn’t turning up today for some reason. I outrank you after all, Stephen.” 

What struck Stephen’s interest was the picture enclosed within. It was a small passport-sized, coloured photograph of a young man smiling shyly into the camera. Stephen’s eyes scanned the name listed next to the photo — Hosuh Lee, 24 years old. The man’s smile was soft and gentle, and it brought a kind of rosy colour to his cheeks. His eyes were kind but soft, and his cheeks looked like the squishiest things ever. The hairstyle he sported was a short, low, silvery ponytail draped over his right shoulder, with stray hair tucked neatly behind dainty ears. The expression he carried upon his youngish, fine features was bashful.

There was no denying that this man was extraordinarily pretty. 

Jay must have caught Stephen paying a little too much attention to the photograph, because Stephen was snapped out of his zone by Jay’s low chuckle. Stephen, embarrassed, stuffed the picture back it to the folder and tossed it back to Jay. He caught it with ease.

“Saw something you like?” Jay teased. His eyes flickered to his watch, and Stephen did the same. 

3.25pm. 

“Don’t mock me, you ass.” 

“Oh, stop flattering me with those names, Stephen. I’m not the ass you want.” 

Stephen shot him the harshest glare he could possibly muster. It screamed homicide. 

Jay continued, “But, this guy, man. Exactly your type, am I right? Pretty, cute, a sweetheart, demure, shy...” He continued to count with his fingers. 

“Yes, he’s pretty, but I — he’s a client, Jay,” Stephen turned away, attempting to hide the flush creeping up his neck. 

Jay placed the folder back in its stack, “Well, Stephen, you of all people probably won’t care. You could literally be a mafia leader and I wouldn’t know. I’m sure getting some ass from a pretty Asian flower shop boy shouldn’t be too difficult for you.” 

Stephen felt his jaw clench involuntarily at the suggestion of criminal activity. He prayed to whatever gods existed that Jay didn’t notice, and he barked out a false laugh, shaking his head. Dropping his gaze to his papers, effectively ending the conversation, he willed his body to relax. Bringing up the criminal underground into conversations never sat well with him, especially associating him with them. He’d spent too long running from such a life, and he couldn’t risk anything. 

Tearing his mind away from his... questionable situation, he turned his attention to the art director, who signalled the commencement of the meeting. The mood shifted immediately from light and playful to serious and professional, and they went over possible concepts along with basic requirements.

The meeting was over quite quickly. Returning to his desk, he debriefed his junior, but his mind was somewhere else. He could barely focus, repeating phrases here and there and lapses in logic and structure. The junior employee was confused half the time, but didn’t question Stephen.

Stephen knew exactly why he was this distracted. 

Contrary to his reaction to Jay’s words regarding their latest client, he knew Jay was right. Hosuh was completely his type. Small, cute, pretty, and an owner of a flower shop for God’s sake. Stephen was weak for innocent boys with long hair. Granted, he didn’t know how Hosuh was like at all, but the image of him being swept off his feet was making Stephen quiver. Stephen’s sexuality was well-established; he was an out and proud bisexual man. But there were a few things that were stopping him from allowing himself to openly thirst over him, which is what he would normally have done. Namely, those things were a rare sense of conscience and distrust. 

The work day ended quite quickly with most of his mind spent on Hosuh and his flower shop. He’d done some research and figured out that the shop, the Floral Hall, was located at the junction opposite his apartment street. He hadn’t noticed it before. Apparently it was a small corner store, with a white backsplash and stone and granite detailing of the tables and displays. Should he visit it out of curiosity? 

Stephen attempted to talk himself out of it. There was nothing that could be gained from meeting someone new especially this out of the blue. It could only end poorly from here; Hosuh seemed like someone who would rat him out instantly if he knew who Stephen really was. He tended to hide from excessive exposure to people lest his identity fraud be exposed, and he was sure making friends — or worse, forming a deeper relationship — would land him straight in court, and successively prison.

That’s why Stephen had no clue what compelled him to step into the tiled flower shop owned by Hosuh Lee at 6.30pm on his way home from work. 

He was shocked to find himself there, and every muscle in his body screamed at him to turn around and leave the place before things could go downhill. 

But he was silenced by the emergence of the petit, silver-haired male he’d seen in the pictures at the office from behind a tall display. And hell, he was _pretty_.

As he stood shell-shocked in the doorway of the shop, he heard a small, gentle voice which instantly melted his heart.

“Hello! Good evening, how may I help you, sir?” 

It was at that moment Stephen regretted every decision he’d made.


	2. Chapter 2

The man who stood in the entrance of his shop looked shocked, and rather out of place. He wore clothes of a typical office job man who got off of work; a blazer, shirt, dress pants and shoes. Around his neck hung a loose tie, and the man pulled at it to loosen it more, revealing a broad, pale neck below the collar of his crumpled dress shirt. 

For some reason Hosuh couldn’t stop staring, which resulted in an pause too long to be considered comfortable. 

Hosuh tried speaking again, this time his voice brittle. “Sorry, sir, have you come for flowers?” 

The man, clearly startled, regained focus and he gazed at Hosuh, cracking a disarming smile. It somehow managed to send Hosuh’s pulse racing, and he was slightly alarmed by it. 

The man spoke, “Oh, heck, I’m sorry. Zoned out for a bit. But to answer your question, no, not really. I live around the area and was just curious what this was about. The shop’s new, isn’t it?” His voice was moderately deep, slightly coarse, and he sounded genuinely approachable. 

Hosuh’s throat suddenly went dry. “Oh, uh, yeah. We... I — we opened, like, two months ago.” 

Nice try, Hosuh. Very eloquent.

While he withered in embarrassment, the man’s smile grew with an air of cockiness. He approached the display closest to the entrance, and Hosuh took the opportunity to study this strange character who had made himself welcome in the shop. 

The first thing that stuck out to Hosuh was his hair. It was swept up in a dramatic quiff undercut, very similar to a mohawk; a gorgeous crown of curls piled atop his head. There were deep purple streaks within the otherwise dark quiff, and Hosuh barely noticed them until he saw the man up close. It pleased him, because purple was his favourite colour. The man’s black eyes were gentle as he assessed the array of flowers in pots on the wooden tables. His tall, lanky frame leant over the table, slender fingers brushing away leaves to read the card displays about the plants. His face was angular, with high cheekbones and a well-defined jaw. He wasn’t model-quality handsome, but Hosuh couldn’t stop staring. Which was extremely odd. It’s not like Hosuh hadn’t seen a man before, and none ever sustained Hosuh’s interest in such a way. 

He had stared for far too long, as both of them realised. The man turned around, flashed him an award-winning smirk, and winked, “Like what you see, flower shop boy?” 

Hosuh could have died. 

He immediately broke eye contact, glaring at the black tiled floor while willing his watermelon red flush to go away. His cheeks burned, his heart thudded in his throat, and he wanted to shrivel up right at that instant. 

This male stranger shouldn’t have had such an effect on him. He’s only felt this way with girls who flirted with him.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. That must have been inappropriate,” the man chuckled, rubbing the nape of his neck bashfully.

Hosuh met his eyes. His brain was shorting out. He didn’t even know this annoyingly handsome guy’s name, and he was flirting with him. Hosuh wasn’t stupid, he knew when a guy was flirting and when a guy was making platonic get-to-know-you conversation. Sure, it felt nice to be validated as a possible romantic candidate by the gay male gaze, but as far as he knew he wasn’t gay. And right now he was too socially inept to diffuse the situation. 

“Sorry for that. You’re not offended, are you?” the man asked, with concern, but a slight edge in his tone.

Hosuh shook his head violently, “N-no, no! Not at all, don’t worry. I just, uh, was surprised is all.” 

The tension in the man’s face melted into a warm smile and he extended a hand towards Hosuh. “I think that’s done more than broken the ice between us. My name’s Stephen, Stephen Lim. Nice to meet you.”

Hosuh stared puzzlingly at the hand he offered for a while before it registered to him that he was to shake it, like regular functional humans did as a greeting. He huffed as quietly as he could at his failed attempt at socialising. His embarrassment was evident in the pink tint of his cheeks as he shook Stephen’s hand, taken aback by how much smaller his palm was compared to Stephen’s. 

It was a very strange thing to notice, and it brought an even hotter blush to his cheeks. 

“I-I’m Hosuh. Hosuh Lee. Enchanté.” 

Stephen nodded with a soft smile on his face, proceeding to pull off his jacket in a single fluid motion. 

Hosuh could _not_ take his eyes off this man, and it was beginning to trouble him.

“So, Hosuh, you say,” Stephen hummed, turning his attention back to the plants. “How’s business been?”

Why was he so friendly? Hardly anyone who came in here came to speak to him for fun. Most people — no, everyone — who came in had the intention of buying or arranging stuff, and not making plain old conversation. Hosuh wasn’t the popular social butterfly type, and this was altogether strange to him. He really didn’t what to do about it, other than stand around and answer Stephen’s questions. But it wasn’t that Hosuh didn’t enjoy the company. In fact, it was nice to have someone he didn’t know at all show a semblance of interest towards him as a person. To have such an interesting character such as Stephen come into his shop and talk to him this way was refreshing and pleasant, just foreign.

He caught Stephen’s eye again, and was suddenly reminded of the question. “Oh, it’s not that bad, actually. I mean, I’m surviving,” he said with a dry laugh. The corner of Stephen’s lips quirked up in a smile.

“Why’d you open up shop here? It’s near downtown, yeah, but why not downtown itself?” Stephen asked.

Hosuh shrugged, “When I say I’m surviving I mean barely surviving, so I can’t afford rent for a shop lot downtown. Besides I’m sure they have bigger companies there in the same industry and I don’t stand a chance.” 

Hosuh noticed a frown on Stephen’s face. 

“Hold up, are you doing alright?” 

Hosuh realised he’d said a bit more than was necessary. Despite that, it warmed his heart that Stephen seemed to actually care, even if they were still pretty much strangers. It was strange to admit, but Hosuh felt almost comfortable talking about such a touchy topic with him, a new acquaintance.

Hosuh waved him off dismissively, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’m doing fine. It’ll be fine.” 

“Dude, I’ve literally met you for, what, 20 minutes now and I don’t believe that one bit,” Stephen said, eying Hosuh with an unreadable expression, “but I shan’t press. I don’t think you want to talk about it.” 

A short, natural silence settled in. Stephen was right, Hosuh didn’t feel the need to continue talking about his financial situation; it was as bad as it could get. But he did want to find out more about Stephen, as crazy as it sounded.

“So what do you do for a job, Stephen?” Hosuh asked as casually as he could, making a motion to the counter where he’d left his garden shears. He still needed to trim wild leaves off of some flower bushes that had been getting out of hand.

“Oh, I’m just a copywriter. I work at that advertising firm based in NYC, and they’ve got a branch here in Montreal. You probably know of the firm,” Stephen replied.

“Yeah, did you know I actually paid for advertising for this shop? I can’t believe I did that.”

Stephen turned toward Hosuh with a smirk on his face, watching as he snipped away messy branches from a rose bush. “Don’t worry, we won’t let you down.” 

Hosuh stopped, and stared. “What?” 

“Oh, you’re my client.” 

Hosuh gaped at him for a long time, taking in that arrogant look on his face.

For some reason, the only thing Hosuh could bring himself to say was, “Isn’t that illegal?” 

Stephen barked out a laugh, absently touching his tie again. “What’s illegal, me talking to you? No, of course not, we’re not client and provider here. I’m just your regular great conversationalist. Sure, might be illegal in the eyes of my creative director, but no, it’s not wrong and it’s definitely not the most illegal thing I’ll be willing to do.” 

“Stephen!” Hosuh exclaimed, making an exaggerated scissoring motion with the shears he was holding on to. “Hey, if it’s illegal and it’s going to get me in trouble, get out of my shop! I’m broke as it is, I can’t afford a fine! Or a license suspension!”

Stephen could barely stop laughing. “You’re evidently not a law student.” 

“Shut your trap, I’m so broke I could barely study anything!”

“Relax, relax, you’re my client and so what? I’m here on the basis of _chatting you up_ and not making demands for adverts.” 

Hosuh’s frenzy died down and he snickered, attending to his plants once again. “We’ve known each other for less than an hour and you’ve already made me mad.” 

“Oh, sweetheart, few can resist my charm; you just get mad easily.” 

Hosuh pursed his lips in a way that resembled playful annoyance. The pet name was cute, yes, and he did like it, but he hated the fact that Stephen got through to him in less than an hour. He’d already threatened the guy with his garden shears, pouted in front of him, and sulked about how broke he was, all in less than an hour. He’d allowed Stephen to call him _sweetheart_ without him bristling, in less than an hour. 

He barely knew what was happening, but he wasn’t complaining. 

Stephen’s company was enjoyable, to be put simply. And he was right; Hosuh couldn’t really resist his charm. 

Of course he would not allow Stephen to know that, however. 

Time flew by with Stephen by his side, who had been really making himself at home at the shop. Hosuh managed to sell plants to customers who walked in staring at Stephen quizzically, process a few orders, and make delivery arrangements the whole time Stephen was there. Stephen had ditched the jacket and tie a long time ago, wrestling the top two buttons of his dress shirt open. Hosuh was ashamed to admit he somewhat enjoyed seeing that. Nevertheless, he couldn’t deny how much he liked having Stephen — or anyone, really — take the effort and get to know him like this. 

The sky had been dark for a while as the two sat in a comfortable silence, with Stephen watching Hosuh work flowers into a pretty bouquet on a wooden bench. 

“Shouldn’t you be heading home?” Hosuh glanced up at the wall clock. It was almost 9pm now. “It’s late, Stephen.”

Stephen sighed, checking his watch. “Yeah, funny how time passes so quick with pleasant company.” 

“You think I’m pleasant company?”

“Of course, flower shop boy,” Stephen winked. Hosuh rolled his eyes, praying that the spontaneous blush on his face wasn’t obvious. He was going to have to do some reasoning with himself very soon. 

“Well,” Stephen continued, motioning towards the displays on his shop, “I’ve wasted so much of your time, Hosuh, and I’ve probably scared away my fair share of your customers.” 

“Yeah, like, did you see that kid and her mom stare you down like you were robbing my shop just now? It was funny.”

“Flower shop boy, you’ve waved your plant scissors thingy at me more times than I can count today; I think the criminal here is you.” 

Hosuh laughed, pausing the work on the bouquet. “So what do you want me to do to make up for that?” 

“I could think of a lot of things, Hosuh, but I just want you to sell me something.” 

Hosuh set his tools down, shaking his head coyly. “No, I’m not engaging in _that_ kind of activity with you, Stephen. Regardless of what you pay me.”

“Hosuh! I didn’t mean that! I just wanted to buy a plant to say thank you.” 

They both erupted in fits of childlike giggles. 

“Stupid, just give me the money and leave; you don’t have to bring home a plant,” Hosuh scoffed, getting up and moving into the main part of the shop. Stephen laughed — a cute, bright sound, resulting in a light peppering of pink on his face — and followed suit.

Cute?

As Hosuh panicked, overanalysing the thoughts that had passed through his mind, Stephen spoke coolly, “What would be the fun in that? I just want a plant to take care of, maybe kill.” 

Hosuh coaxed himself to respond as candidly as possible. “Don’t kill my plants! Fine, you can get a cactus. Take your pick,” he waved Stephen over to the tables where succulents and cacti were. 

“Why a cactus?” Stephen asked, looking at the cacti on the table and selecting one rather quickly, placing it in Hosuh’s offered palm. The cactus was small, fleshy; a small Cereus cactus.

“Number one, they’re easy to take care of and you can’t kill one that easily. Number two, they’re prickly and mean to people, like you.” 

The transaction was complete very soon and a ten-dollar note was slipped over the counter. Stephen took the cactus by the small pot, laughing and gazing at Hosuh with fond eyes. 

Hosuh definitely noticed that, and it sent his mind into a muddled mess. 

“You surely can’t think I’m mean, sweet,” Stephen grinned, stepping away from the counter and grabbing his things on the bench. 

They made the way to the door, and Hosuh held it open for him, a shy smile on his face. 

“Of course not, Stephen, you know I was joking. Anyway, see you around? It was nice having you here, really.”

Stephen offered a grin, nodding. “Yeah, talking to you was therapeutic. I’ll work hard on your stupid advert.” 

“Don’t call it stupid! I paid for it and I’m trusting you with it.” 

He laughed, taking a step out of the shop. 

“Sure, mon chou. See you.” 

That night Hosuh couldn’t quite get the image of Stephen’s kind eyes and fond smiles out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!
> 
> Enchanté: Nice to meet you (a little formal)  
> Mon chou: Sweetie (term of endearment which means my cabbage in literal terms)  
> I just thought a little bit of French would be fun since they’re in Montreal! 
> 
> I just wanna say thank you so much for all the support so far. I’m really happy you guys enjoy the story!
> 
> For anyone who might be worried about shipping real people, I understand your concerns but I’ll be writing the DanPlan guys as the characters they portray online, and not who they really are. Offending the members of DanPlan is not in my interests!
> 
> Also seeing Daniel play a detective in their latest video (the Horror Island one) has given me inspiration for Daniel’s character here, and I think it’s beautiful
> 
> Do look out for chapter 3: Daniel will be introduced, and there’ll be more Hosuh x Stephen fluff there, as well as a bit more context to their characters!
> 
> Thank you once again :))


	3. Chapter 3

“Yo, bitch, guess what!” 

Hosuh winced upon hearing the loud, energetic voice blaring from the speaker of his laptop. Lunging over the small desk to lower the volume, he hissed an emphatic “shh” in an attempt to quieten Daniel. 

“It’s 6.30am, and my roommate’s next door still asleep, Daniel. You’re so loud all the time; remind me again why I answered your call?” Hosuh hissed, sending a faux glare to the laptop camera. Daniel’s face lit up in a jaunty chuckle, and he clapped his hands together. 

“Oh my, Hosuh’s angry. My precious little cinnamon roll!” Daniel chanted, much softer this time. 

Hosuh settled back down in his chair, folding his arms. “Go away, Daniel.” 

Daniel gushed over what a “small cute baby”, and “delicate loaf of bread” Hosuh was. Hosuh was used to it by now. He was glad his friend had called anyway, and he would willingly put up with whatever antics Daniel got up to. Daniel was a good friend, after all, no matter how loud and excitable. 

“Anyway, Hosuh, my little kitten, how have you been?” Daniel called, his image on the laptop fading in and out of resolution. The sound became crackly, and Hosuh strained to pick out his words. The wifi in his apartment was absolutely crappy. But Hosuh was a poor millennial, and this was the best he could afford. 

“Eh, not much. The shop’s doing okay. What about you? You sure seem happy. What’s going in Calgary?” 

“Oh, you mean I can’t be absolutely elated to see your face?” Daniel pouted. Hosuh made an exaggerated shiver, inviting laughter from the both of them.

“Anyway, Calgary, right?” Daniel continued. Hosuh raised a brow in confusion. “I won’t be staying here anymore in a few days.” 

Before Hosuh could ask why, Daniel had leapt from his seat and was doing a stupid dance in the middle of his living room. 

“I’m moving to Montreal! I’ll be able to see you every single day!” 

Hosuh blinked twice rapidly. Moving to Montreal? Dan surely had a reason. He never liked moving, and he wouldn’t move here for the fun of it. It would be nice to have Daniel around, but Hosuh’s curiosity dampened any happiness. 

“Why?” he asked, his face pulling into a small frown. He found his fingers subconsciously fiddling with his long silver hair. Grabbing one of the few hair ties at the corner of the desk, he bunched it up into a ponytail, blowing loose strands away from his forehead. 

“Well, in reality it’s for work. I landed a new job!” Daniel exclaimed, settling back in his chair and shaking the monitor of his laptop. The image of Dan shook violently, and the connection cut out momentarily. 

Hosuh grinned. Whatever job this was, it must have been big. Daniel had always been smart in school, and was well-liked by both peers and teachers. Daniel studied criminal justice in university, and did extremely well. It didn’t come as a shock that Daniel was a new hotshot in the criminal intelligence and private investigation scene, and worked in a reputable private investigation firm. If a new job got Dan even happier than when he was hired for his current firm, it definitely was a huge deal. 

Dan continued, excitement bubbling in his voice. “So, I’m still with my original firm, but my boss basically recommended me to work on a new, really high profile case for the Vancouver police. I have to investigate someone, basically. But, dude, it’s the police force! I could go so many places if I do this job well. I could quit my firm and work my way up in law enforcement and become a detective, or investigator, heck, maybe even join the FBI! Maybe good old ‘Murica will call me over if I’m good enough.” 

Hosuh couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Dan’s happiness was contagious, and Hosuh could feel his mood brightening as he congratulated Dan profusely. He knew what this job meant for Dan. It was the gateway to a high-flying, successful career for him, the kind that Dan deserved and had worked hard for. 

It was a million times better than being a broke flower shop owner, anyway. 

“What case are you working on?” Hosuh asked, after the both of them had calmed down. He’d long ditched the idea of keeping quiet for his roommate. 

“Oh, oh, a real juicy one! I mean, I can’t tell you too much, of course, but you know that drug cartel case?” 

Hosuh was stunned. “Oh my god, the one all over the news? The Vancouver Cartel Saga thing?” 

Dan’s feverish nod said it all. 

“Shit, Dan! That’s, like, I don’t know, the most prolific case in Canada! FBI and international police forces are involved! Dude, guys from Korea, China, Singapore, Europe, wherever, are chipping in too, I heard.” 

“I know!” Dan virtually screamed, shaking the screen again. “I have no idea how I got this job, plus it’s so exclusive. I’ve got to investigate this specific guy on the side while the actual police hotshots are investigating the cartel operations and two main stakeholders. The Ng couple leading the cartel, that is.” 

Hosuh’s eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned over the table, propping his head in his palm. He batted his lashes. “Oh Daniel senpai, why don’t you tell me who you’re investigating?” 

Daniel let out a loud groan, clutching his heart dramatically. “Hosuh, don’t do that, I can’t be your sugar daddy.“

Hosuh giggled and pressed for more information. 

“Okay, sis, I’ll only spill a little bit of the tea. Promise me you won’t tell anyone, and it’s serious.” 

“Yeah, I don’t have anyone to tell it to, anyway.” Hosuh’s thoughts shifted briefly to Stephen, but he chased the image of him away soon enough. 

“Aight. So the two people running the cartel are a couple, right? And they have a kid. A son, specifically. Old enough for there to be a possibility of being involved. So that’s the guy I’m investigating.” 

Hosuh hummed in understanding. “And he lives in Montreal?” 

“Yeah. I’m not sure where specifically yet, but I’ve found info that he’s in Montreal living under a different name. I also know that false name, but I don’t have any solid proof yet. I’m there to find out about all possible crimes, as well as find out about his involvement in the cartel. And since it’s in Montreal, you should stay safe too, Hosuh. I mean, he’s probably living in the bigger parts of the cities running urgent correspondences et cetera for the cartel if he’s involved, so I doubt you’ll be affected much. Regardless, be wary.” 

Hosuh nodded, playing with his hair once more. From what Hosuh had picked up from media, the Vancouver Cartel was extremely well-connected, and thankfully usually very discreet about their activities. They never bothered people not involved in their underground activities, but who knew — now with the collapse of its structure and the leaking of the identities of the leaders, they could be plotting anything. 

Daniel looked at his watch, and tapped it lightly, looking at Hosuh. 

“Floral Hall opens at 8am on Saturdays, they say. You ought to get going,” Daniel said, offering a smile. “Thanks for listening. Sorry for bothering you!” Laughing, he waved to Hosuh. 

Hosuh smiled, bidding goodbye and waving. 

He disconnected the Skype call, leaning back into his chair. He was happy for Dan, who had worked hard and was getting to reap what he sowed. Daniel Lim was a man of ambition and aptitude, and Hosuh greatly respected that about him. 

Hosuh grabbed his small brown satchel full of necessities for the work day and slung it over his shoulder. He arrived at his shop very quickly after leaving home— after all, his tiny shoebox apartment was directly above it. It was a quick climb down a shady stairwell along the block and a short walk to the bend. 

Dumping his things in the back room of the shop, he proceeded to work on administrative matters. It was a boring task, but it needed to be done. 

He worked, paying no mind to the passing of time. Within a short amount of time, he’d processed his deliveries and orders, arranged a few bouquets, and was moving round the shop, tending to his plants, taking time to hum softly to each of them. 

He barely noticed the tinkling of the little gold bell over the doorframe as the front door opened. 

Upon seeing who it was, he immediately felt a smile creep onto his face. 

But Stephen was just a regular dude who happened to pay him more attention than most. His sudden arrival didn’t justify that kind of delight.

He took to glaring at the mentioned lanky man standing in the middle of the room. 

“Stephen! Get out of my shop,” Hosuh huffed, marching to the back room. He was ashamed. He felt the way his heart had skipped a beat, the way he’d instantly forgotten everything that plagued his mind. He’d caught himself slipping. He’d only met this guy yesterday, and he still hadn’t sat down to think about his unwarranted mannerisms around him. 

Stephen let an easy chuckle, moving languidly across the room, almost too graceful for a man his height. Leaning over the doorframe of the back room, he peered at Hosuh.

“C’mon, Hosuh, tell me you enjoy my company,” Stephen called, “Are you really going to tell me to get out of your shop first thing in the morning?” 

Hosuh sighed, even more embarrassed now. It was childish to be treating someone who sincerely wanted his friendship this way just because of his own conflicted feelings and reactions. He placed down his bouquet and turned to Stephen, a tad sheepishly. 

He did a quick double take, sucking in air sharply. Stephen was leaning his side against the door frame with relaxed poise, an arm resting above his head. His thumb was hooked on the belt loop the pair of skin-tight black jeans he wore. He’d pushed the sleeves of a light grey jumper up his forearms, revealing swathes of pale skin. 

It was nothing short of a seductive pose.

He recovered quickly enough, berating himself silently. “Yeah, sorry,” he offered an unconvincing chuckle, “I don’t know what got to me.”

“Hosuh,” Stephen said, his voice suddenly low and serious, “Are you alright?”

Startled, Hosuh met his eye. A sort of dark, conflicted storm brewed behind them, and Hosuh couldn’t really pick out the meaning behind it. Despite the hardened gaze, Hosuh knew it wasn’t malicious. It shocked him to see Stephen‘s face morph so quickly into something like this, because Stephen didn’t seem the type to care much. He’d assumed Stephen was just a regular acquaintance who he could get along surprisingly well with, and not someone who would invest emotions to his wellbeing. He’d thought Stephen would simply wave if off, dismiss it as if it was no problem. But apparently Stephen had noticed Hosuh’s demeanour, and it scared him to think that he could read him so easily. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I think,” Hosuh said sheepishly, looking away. He couldn’t bear the intensity of Stephen’s gaze. 

“Hosuh, hey,” Stephen said, gently this time. His eyes softened. “If you’re not comfortable with me being here, you just need to say so and I’ll leave you alone.” 

Why did Stephen care so much? As much as Hosuh appreciated it, he couldn’t help but be unnerved. Hosuh was nobody to Stephen; he was only the owner of the flower shop round the corner of the street. He liked having someone to talk to, but surely Stephen had better people to serve as company? 

“I’m just a little... overwhelmed, is all,” Hosuh shrugged, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. 

Stephen drew his form away from the doorframe, stuffing both hands into his pockets. “By me?” 

“No, no!” Hosuh shook his head, staring at his feet. “By, uh, having more than one friend? Especially one that actually sticks around and is, like, nice? Someone I enjoy talking to?”

Stephen smirked, regaining his usual confident aura. “So you enjoy talking to me and you think I’m nice. What an honour.”

No words could escape Hosuh’s lips. He couldn’t deny Stephen’s words, and he was too nice to fault him for a faultless statement. 

Stephen was a tricky one, Hosuh realised. He could swing from being playful and cocky to sober and earnest in a heartbeat. It was part of his charm, Hosuh thought. Stephen was, to quote his own words, an expert conversationalist. He had social flair; skill for manoeuvring social situations with pure charisma, character, observation, and carefully-chosen diction. Hosuh could only dream of being like that. How did Stephen learn such things?

Stephen stepped into the back room as Hosuh studied him, peering curiously at the flowers and tools sprawled over the work table. Tilting his head at an awkward angle, he tried to get a look at at the sketches Hosuh had left on the table. 

The sketch on top was of a simple bouquet Hosuh had planned last night. It was for a wedding proposal that he had been contacted for. He’d sketched a cascading bouquet of deep red roses and old rose pink carnations, with baby’s breath and dark green foliage enveloping it. It was to be wrapped at the stem very simply with rustic brown parchment and a woven string. 

“That’s really pretty,” Stephen whispered, his breath hitching. It came as a shock to Hosuh. He’d never heard such a light, airy quality in Stephen’s voice.

“Is this for a wedding?” Stephen asked, taking the sketch into his hands. His fingers lightly traced the thin, sparse lines in pencil, entirely enraptured. 

“A marriage proposal,” Hosuh corrected softly, a small blush rising to his cheeks. Nobody ever looked at his drawings much, and sometimes if they did, they’d chastise his knack for drawing. He’d received enough comments about drawing being an unseemly talent, not befitting the successful, revered Asian man he was meant to be. He’d gotten twice the criticism once people knew he drew, made and sold floral arrangements for a living. “Too girly”, people would say, as if being a girl was an insult.

Strangely enough, he had trusted Stephen with his drawings. Something bloomed in his chest when Stephen stared fondly at the sketches, leafing through different drafts, drinking in every colour, every form, every detail. 

“They’re so pretty, Hosuh,” Stephen breathed, eyes wide and filled with awe, “Just like you.” 

What?

Instant panic washed over Hosuh. His eyes darted all over the room, landing anywhere but on Stephen. Vile memories resurfaced just as bile rose up his throat involuntarily. Mocking, the rejection, the crying for being called “pretty”, “weak”, “fragile” came to mind. Harsh blows, and even harsher words spat at him by friends, family, strangers. “Pretty” was never a compliment; only snarls and punches and kicks accompanied the word. 

His face had hardened and his gaze was steely when he finally brought himself to look at Stephen again. 

He realised, with a pang, that Stephen was not insulting him. 

Nothing about that tomato red blush and parted lips said he was mocking Hosuh. 

Hosuh felt his own cheeks turn hot. Was that meant to be a compliment, then? Was that meant to be an _intentional_ compliment? Stephen wasn’t shaming Hosuh, that was for sure, but why was he all flushed? Why the shock? 

Why was Hosuh’s heart thudding as violently as Daniel shaking his laptop screen while on Skype?

Stephen dragged his hand down his face, letting out a guttural groan of what Hosuh presumed to be sheer chagrin. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Stephen said, shifting a finger to peer better through the gaps. The red hue on his face was still as strong as before. “I keep doing this.” 

Hosuh shook his head forcefully, gesticulating wildly out of his anxiousness. “No, no, no! It’s okay, thanks for the compliment! Don’t be embarrassed, it’s alright.” His words came out in a unarticulated rush. 

“I saw how you froze up, oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. Please don’t be creeped out,” Stephen said, gripping the edges of the table. 

Hosuh rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, running his fingers along his hair. “No, it’s really okay. I just... got made fun of a lot for being, I don’t know, traditionally feminine or something. When I was younger, I mean. Pretty was never a nice word.”

Stephen lifted his gaze to meet Hosuh’s. Upon feeling the rush of blood beneath his cheeks, Hosuh turned away again. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know. That shit really stays with you, doesn’t it. I...” Stephen trailed off, looking into the distance, “How can I make it up to you?”

Why was Hosuh’s heart sputtering at the embarrassed smile Stephen offered? 

Stumbling over his words, he managed to stammer, “Uh, I... just... stay.” 

Confusion settled in Stephen’s knitted brows. “Stay? As in, stay here?”

Hosuh, _what_?

His pulse was skyrocketing as he attempted to save himself. “Yeah, I mean, as in... Keep me company? I’m, like, lonely.” 

Stephen’s face relaxed, and a soft smile played at his lips. “Sure,” he said, “I’ll be glad to.” 

Hosuh couldn’t help but feel a tugging in his chest. 

Hours later they found themselves laughing in the back room, tossing bouquet wrappers, foliage and flowers at each other. 

“Hosuh, how do I make this look as angry as possible?” Stephen yelled, throwing a stalk of orange lily at him. It hit Hosuh in the side of the head just as he was trying to duck.

Hosuh laughed, swatting Stephen with the spool of ribbon he had in hand. “Why are you making that stupid bouquet? I already told you orange lily meant hatred. And you know that! You quoted that tumblr post about florist AUs at me!” 

“It’s for my creative director! I’m sure he can’t know what these flowers mean,” Stephen replied cheekily, smacking away the ribbon. 

“Oh my God, what if I become known for this kind of bouquet? I like servicing weddings and cute things, not, I don’t know, angsty teenagers filming diss tracks or something,” Hosuh let out a laugh upon seeing Stephen raise an eyebrow and gesticulate in utter confusion. “If that happens, Stephen, quit your job. Terrible publicity.” 

“Sweet pea, it’s just a cute bunch of orange lilies, yellow carnations, geraniums, and... what’s this one called again?” Stephen asked, pulling out a purple elongated flower from his pile.

Hosuh glanced between the flower he was holding on to and the one Stephen took out. “Cyclamens,” he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I should probably stop selling those. No one — well, except you — wants them. Also, they look really bad with the rest of your flowers.” 

“Hey! A flower that means ‘separation’ goes with anything. Don’t disrespect the cyclamen,” Stephen pouted with mock hurt written on his face. He took a long look at his pile, then looked at Hosuh putting the finishing touches on his rose and carnation bouquet. Hosuh’s deft, slender fingers tucked dark green variegated leaves in, snipping away at any particularly messy bunches. 

“Hey, uh, Hosuh,” Stephen said hesitantly. Hosuh let out a soft ‘hmm’ noise. “I don’t actually know how to arrange flowers.” 

Hosuh turned to him, staring, not really processing what Stephen said. 

“Well, we’ve been tossing shit at each other for the past half an hour, and I’ve probably ruined more flowers than I intended to, but could I trouble you to teach me? How to actually make a bouquet, that is.” 

Understanding hit Hosuh like a truck. Of course Stephen didn’t know what he was doing. He giggled, nodding his head. He set down his bouquet and got up from his seat, moving over to Stephen. 

Leaning over the table, he picked up some orange lilies and snipped off leaves on the stem with a pair of garden shears, then proceeded to cut the bottom of it an an angle. “You gotta remove the leaves, and cut the stem like this. It helps it last longer, and props the flower a little higher if you put it in a vase.”

Stephen did the same with the geraniums and carnations, intentionally leaving the cyclamens alone. Hosuh’s hair had fallen over his face, thin wisps of silver caressing his cheeks. Stephen suppressed the unwanted urge to brush them away. 

“So you want to work with the flowers that you have the most of right now. The main feature, basically. Which would be...?” Hosuh’s melodic voice was raised in question, and Stephen stared at the flowers laid out in front of him. 

“I’ll say the carnations. They mean disappointment, right? I’m more disappointed in Jay than I hate him,” Stephen mulled. He brightened at the Hosuh’s laugh — a light, airy, carefree sound.

“Okay, then begin by arranging the carnations. It’s up to you how you want to do it; if you want the whole thing to be tight and compact, or spaced-out and open. Make sure to give it balance.” Hosuh placed the flowers into a vase that he took from a shelf behind the table. In went the carnations first, stems criss-crossed; a sparse arrangement from taller flowers to the shorter, smaller ones. He slotted small, lighter green leaves in between and larger ones at the back. Then he chose a few of the smallest orange lilies and added them to the barest parts of the arrangement. 

“This one’s quite simple. I’m sure you could think of something nicer. If you want to do a bouquet, there are a few types with different techniques which I can teach you to make. I’ll work on my bouquet for now, but don’t hesitate to ask me for anything,” Hosuh said, offering a sweet smile. 

Hosuh’s body was pressed very close to his, Stephen realised. Hosuh had sidled up to him, brushing his side against Stephen’s bare forearm on multiple occasions as he worked on the arrangement. Stephen could see every bit of Hosuh’s petite frame, from the supple curves of his hips and waist, to his tired but content grey eyes. If he was a beauty to watch idling, then he was a winsome angel when among his flowers and foliage. 

Nothing could calm Stephen’s panicking bisexual heart. 

Hosuh had returned to his work as promised and seemed not to notice the gaping admiration that Stephen stared at him with.

As much as Stephen hated to admit it, he’d started forming attachment to this man. Why else would he show up this morning? Why else would he stay with him for hours, just because he was asked to so sweetly? He could have just stayed home, did some work, binged Netflix — anything but this. All he would have needed to do was stay away, complete this assignment at the firm, forget about Hosuh and move on. He’d already survived his entire life without a single romantic parter; without a single shred of attachment.

He shouldn’t have allowed it to get this far. 

He‘d only met Hosuh a day ago, and he was already overcome by an urge to see him, to hear his voice. He ached to get closer to Hosuh, to find out as much as he could about this intriguing, worrisome man. 

But it was concerning. He’d always been able to hold back and come to his senses before things could escalate. His irrational reactions to Hosuh were wild, uncontrollable, and he hated not being in control. He could easily confide too much of his personal intel. He could let anything slip. The façade he worked so hard to maintain could crack at any moment. 

And it could very well get him killed. 

The impending sense of doom was sickening. Surely he could be overreacting — after all, he’d been living as Stephen Lim for 10 years. He was experienced enough to know what to do if things went awry, even if he couldn’t contact his parents and their _connections_ for resources at this point in time. He didn’t want to be complacent, however. Getting close to someone, _anyone_ , could mean investigation, arrest, interrogations, and charges pressed. Who knew, authorities might have sent investigators after him already. The risks were too large, and costs were too high.

He was bothered that he was willing to overlook them just to get closer to Hosuh.

Logically, it was stupid to desert all sense of self preservation just because he met a beautiful flower shop boy who deserved better than his tainted past and shattered future.

One thing was for sure; he was in too deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Thanks again for all the support on this story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed Chapter 3, which is a little longer than the previous two!
> 
> Chapter 4 is when shit starts getting real. I shan’t go into too much detail about that, but do look out for the drama!
> 
> Thank you for following Manhunt! <3


	4. Chapter 4

Throwing himself onto the soft, fluffy bed of the hotel, Daniel let out a content sigh. The four-hour long business-class flight from Calgary to Montreal was comfortable enough, but flying still took a lot out of Daniel. He’d always been a homebody. 

It was a Sunday afternoon when he arrived, about a week since he told Hosuh he was coming. He’d talked to Hosuh a few times after to that via Skype, and Hosuh seemed different each time, somehow. He seemed... happier. Lighter. Dan couldn’t really put it into words. He’d just never seen Hosuh look as happy since they were 12.

It warmed his heart. Hosuh had led a tough life, and he still did. He’d been left in crippling debt after the sudden financial decline of his family in Korea, and he had to withdraw from the university he had been studying at because he couldn’t pay for tuition. It was so unlike Daniel, he knew. Daniel had been privileged to have a well-off family and a strong support system while Hosuh struggled to open up his shop in Montreal. He could barely afford food and housing. Hosuh had fought bitterly to build a life of his own without a degree, without a reputation, without people to turn to. Dan had helped as much as he could, of course, by sending him money he scrapped up during his early days in the private investigation scene. Even to this day he owned shares in Hosuh’s business. He remembered helping Hosuh through organising admin with the university, liaising with his parents’ employers, handling insurance, paying off as much of his family’s debts as he could. He was proud of how far his friend had gone; he’d continually proven that his circumstances would never best him. Hosuh was astounding in that way. 

Daniel had teased him because of his fresh new demeanour regardless, of course. “Who’s the new girl?” and “let your girl meet the fam!” were among his top pick phrases for banter. Each time he chaffed his friend, Hosuh would only blush, tug on his hair, shake his head, and reply with an indignant, “it’s not a girl!” It was absolutely endearing.

As Hosuh’s surrogate single mother, Dan made a mental note to visit him later that day to investigate Hosuh’s life on the side of his primary mission. 

Flopping over onto his stomach on the bed, he stared hard at the white pillows rested against the headboard. His current assignment — the case that he had been sent to Montreal to investigate — was a tough one. Not only did it have ties to the one of the most prolific, international crime organisation, but the ones behind the case thought it out extremely well. The Vancouver Cartel barely left a trace. The only reason they could catch them in their sights was because a former cartel hitman and lieutenant of the organisation had given Vancouver police a major tip-off many years ago, which led to undercover investigations uncovering more details. 

Daniel begun to analyse what he knew. The person he was to investigate was a certain “Stephen Lim”, and according to recent undercover reports, this was an alias of the Ng couple’s son. The man in question would be around 23 years of age at this point in time. 

The cartel’s activities had spread across Asia, Canada and certain parts of Spain and America. Cases of missing people had been uncovered in the timeframe of 2000 to 2011, and most authorities had ordered the investigation of all cases in that time. Although these were mostly isolated and well-covered up, it was good and thorough practice to find as much as they could. Investigators around the world were busy scourging for the identities of the missing people and other members of the cartel with the help of undercover agents and informants. The strange case of Stephen Lim was specially referred to his branch because of their good reputation, and the short-handedness of the Vancouver side. Daniel had been recommended for the job because of his capability and had been tasked to confirm just who was living behind the identity of Stephen Lim.

It was probably also because his 50-year-old unmarried boss at the Calgary branch wanted to fool around with girls more than work on a tiring, all-consuming case like this. 

He groaned, propping himself up on the bed and running a hand through his brown hair. It was useless to theorise anything now. He barely knew anything besides where a Stephen Lim had been popping up in Montreal records for housing, jobs and education. He didn’t know all of where this man was listed under, and he definitely couldn’t tell if “Stephen Lim” was a completely random alias, or if it was a stolen identity. If the latter was the case, it would lead to a lot more complications to work out later. 

He’d need to check the records again for where Stephen’s name had popped up. That was his game plan. He’d check records on Government databases to see where Stephen was and what he was doing, and then observe up close. Perhaps he would initiate contact to aid investigation, but it was not the norm, and was it too early to decide. 

From there he would watch carefully for any criminal activity and garner evidence for links to the cartel to prove that Stephen Lim was in fact the Ngs’ son. It was a lot of playing by ear. Slowly he’d figure out every bit of the man’s backstory and search for any piece of evidence that prove a connection to the cartel. 

Daniel would also take it upon himself to find out if this was a stolen identity, as he knew very well it could be. Who was Stephen Lim? Daniel didn’t feel comfortable leaving that question unanswered. 

Daniel frowned, getting up from the bed and heading to the shower. He’d only just landed an hour ago, and his mind was already running wild with hypotheses and plans. He had only six months to complete the assignment, but he could afford to take time off on his day of arrival. 

For now, he’d go pay Hosuh a surprise visit. 

Some hours later Daniel found himself walking along the street where Hosuh lived, three purple balloons in his hand. He remembered the first time he visited Hosuh — it was during the opening of Floral Hall, Hosuh’s shop. He’d walked the same street with Hosuh, and the most striking memory of those times was the ugly, pitiable amalgamation of plain fatigue, pain and yet relief in Hosuh’s eyes. Hosuh was dressed in a simple shirt and pants during the shop’s opening, while Dan had a bright green suit on. Hosuh laughed at him, but at least it was a laugh. 

His memories with Hosuh were fond, but filled with strife. Right now, however, Hosuh was in a much better position, and whatever it was that made him this happy all of a sudden, Dan wanted to celebrate it with him. 

The shop was closed on Sundays, and he suspected Hosuh wouldn’t be far from home either. Hosuh rarely left his apartment for things other than work. 

He climbed up the dingy staircase to the corner apartment, clutching the three metallic purple balloons he’d bought in his hand. No matter how much Hosuh moaned about his apartment being crappy, Dan thought it was a fantastic deal. The internet connection was bad, he knew, but the 2-bedroom, 64-squared-metres space with colourful, worn, mismatched furniture was cozy and well-maintained. 

The doorbell of the apartment was also something they needed to fix. It was perpetually out of order, he realised, rapping the door sharply instead. 

Quick shuffling of feet was heard from inside, along with a chirpy-sounding call of “coming!” 

The door was flung open, and a tiny Hosuh bedecked with bright yellow Gudetama socks skidded behind it, clutching onto the door with a huge grin smeared across his face. 

Upon opening the door, he had yelled rather excitedly, “Stephen!” 

Stephen? 

Dan’s mind spun, but Hosuh’s radiant smile somehow grew even brighter. Dan was soon enveloped in a big hug, the smaller man burying his head in his shoulder. 

They must have looked so stupid standing in front of the birch door of the apartment, Daniel standing ramrod straight and clutching the bright purple balloons he’d bought while being hugged by a tiny man. 

Daniel slowly reciprocated the hug, manoeuvring his balloons behind Hosuh. He took a breath, reasoning with himself as rationally as possible. Whoever this Stephen was, it couldn’t be the supposed Stephen Lim he was after. Dan had spent too much time mulling over this case. Perhaps it was another Stephen; Stephen was a common name, after all. Brushing his previous panic off, Daniel brought himself to pat Hosuh’s head gently.

“Stephen?” he said, tone playful, “Is this what you meant by ‘it isn’t a girl’? I didn’t know you swung that way, Hosuh.” 

Hosuh’s immediately withdrew from the hug, face flushed. He glared at Daniel, shaking his head violently. “No! Stephen’s just a friend. We were going to head out for lunch.”

“Just a friend, you say. A friend who Hosuh Lee has lunch with on a delightful Sunday afternoon? Such a good friend that it might be a boyfriend —”

“Hosuh?” 

Daniel was interrupted by a slightly coarse, obviously male voice. Dan spun around, not before seeing the glow on Hosuh’s face brighten. 

“Stephen!” Hosuh called again, visibly giddy with delight. “Oh my god, hang on, both of you can come inside. I’ll introduce you two soon.” Hosuh positively bounded into the house, not before holding the door open for Dan. 

Daniel and the new arrival didn’t make an immediate move in. They stood, as naturally as possible, but each was aware the other was silently assessing them, right outside where Hosuh was busying himself. Said Stephen was tall, slightly taller than Dan, and of an average build. Stephen’s dark eyes were narrowed, Dan realised. He was agitated, somewhat, but more nervous than anything. Something was clearly bothering him, Dan could tell. Pulling up a mental image of the graduation picture of the son of the cartel at 18 Dan had received, he concluded that this man didn’t resemble the picture much. It relieved him somewhat. Not like the picture would have been accurate in identifying a now 23-year-old man who had hopefully had a glow-up, anyway. 

But there was still something fishy. 

Despite his worries, Daniel melted his gaze into a warm, welcoming look, shifting to hold the door open for him. The tension in Stephen’s face dissolved, and he smiled, stepping inside. He could tell the hospitality was a farce, just like his. 

The kettle was on, and they could hear the steady bubbling of water and the electrical hum of the appliance. As they walked past the small hallway into the main living space, Dan caught sight of Hosuh reaching for something on the top cabinet, tiptoeing and physically straining to grab it. 

In an instant Stephen was by his side, even before Dan could make a move towards Hosuh. A quiet whisper was shared and Stephen pulled down three mugs and a box of what Daniel presumed to be teas. 

The love that bloomed in Stephen’s now-relaxed eyes in response to the cheesy, bashful smile on Hosuh’s upturned face was unfathomable. 

This couldn’t be the son of the Vancouver Cartel. It was impossible. It was clear as day how much this Stephen cared for Hosuh. If it was plain to see in just one look, Dan wondered what the extent of his love for Hosuh was. Dan wasn’t sure if the son of a terrifying drug cartel could be the same. 

Maybe the only reason why Stephen was on edge was because of how touchy-feely Dan was with Hosuh, in addition to holding balloons. Stephen was probably the jealous boyfriend type, and not upon closer inspection that would seem like cheating material. 

Regardless, Daniel couldn’t let his guard down too much. He couldn’t trust him fully yet, and would have to be wary around his reasons for being here, just in case Stephen was guilty. 

He prayed that Hosuh wouldn’t mention it. 

“You like tea, right, Dan? I’ve got some green tea if you want,” Hosuh asked from the kitchen, turning around to face Daniel. Dan noticed how Stephen’s eyes lingered on Hosuh, drinking in every edge and every curve, hungrily, _thirstily_.

Oof, he was so gay for Hosuh. 

But he had better not break Hosuh’s heart like previous partners did, or the mother hen Dan would come whoop that ass. 

“Yeah, tea’s fine!” Daniel replied. Stephen and Hosuh busied themselves with preparing tea, and Dan heard playful banter about coffee versus tea from the kitchen. Hosuh took the side of tea, as Dan knew he would, and Stephen made a case for coffee rather candidly. It was awfully domestic, Dan thought. Perhaps this was all Hosuh needed in life; someone he could trust, someone who loved him as much as he loved them, someone who could provide an intimate family for him. 

Hosuh placed two mugs of green tea on the coffee table while Stephen sipped at his steaming coffee. They settled in on the worn blue couch, Hosuh’s beaming smile emanating joy. Stephen just looked somewhat tired, but incredibly blissful. It was a cute contrast, Daniel thought. 

“Dan, I’m so glad you’re here! You didn’t text me beforehand though,” Hosuh said, pulling his legs and crossed them on the couch. 

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t think you would have had something on,” Dan replied, sending an exaggerated, unnatural wink at Hosuh. 

Hosuh scoffed in annoyance. “Stop winking at me, it’s ugly and gross.”

Stephen almost spat out his coffee. He instantly set down his mug and coughed, barely managing to hide the smile that had erupted across his face. Hosuh was giggling and patting Stephen’s back gently. 

Upon seeing Dan’s quirked eyebrow and sly smirk, Hosuh froze, a rosy blush taking over his cheeks. 

He cleared his throat, desperately trying to divert attention. “A-anyway. Dan, this is Stephen, Stephen Lim. He’s a really good friend of mine.”

Daniel’s heart dropped.

Stephen Lim?

It couldn’t be...?

Now Daniel wasn’t a fool. There were probably thousands of people called Stephen Lim in the world. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. He didn’t have any information on this particular man. He didn’t know if he owned the same property or if he held the same job that was listed under his target. There was no correlation he could assume between the two, other than their common name. From what he’d seen of this man — his love-filled gazes, his gentle demeanour around Hosuh — nobody would have thought him to be connected to a dangerous cartel.

No logic could explain away the sinking dread in his gut, however. He would have to be wary, at least until he acquired more intel.

His attention was brought back by a charming, decidedly uncanny smile from the so-called Stephen Lim himself.

“And Stephen, this is Daniel Lim. We’ve been the best of friends since middle school, and he’s really helped me a lot in life. I owe him a lot. I’ve never really mentioned him, though. Oops,” Hosuh continued, rubbing the back of his neck with shame. 

Stephen smiled again and nodded at Dan, an expression devoid of the same warmth he’d offered Hosuh previously. Dan didn’t know if he was reading too much into his behaviour now that he had a reason to suspect him. Nevertheless Dan extended a hand with bright smile to mask his queasiness, but contrary to his expectation, their handshake was firm and full of conviction. 

It was becoming difficult to read this man. 

“Nice to meet you, Daniel. I take it that you and Hosuh are close?” Stephen’s voice was casual enough. 

“Yeah, we are. I’m practically his mom,” Daniel said, attempting to make light of the situation. He chuckled at how Hosuh had buried his head in his hands. 

Stephen’s cold demeanour cracked, just a little bit. He laughed, and the sound was genuine. 

“So, Stephen,” Daniel said with renewed confidence, his words becoming a daring, suggestive drawl, “Invite me to the wedding, will ya?” 

“Daniel!” came an emphatic retort from Hosuh. “I’ve told you! We’re not dating!” 

It was Stephen’s turn to turn away with a faint pink evident across his otherwise pale cheeks.

The hier of the criminal underground or not, there was no way he didn’t like Hosuh. The two couldn’t possibly think they were subtle. 

Daniel shrugged, shaking his head. “Seemed like it. Ask anybody on the streets and they’d say you two were gay as hell for each other.” Hosuh squirmed uncomfortably as Stephen continued to drill holes into the pale wood floor with his eyes. Daniel laughed. 

”Alright, alright, let’s not go into this. I trust Hosuh will talk about it on his own terms. How have you been?” 

Relief washed over both Hosuh and Stephen. Hosuh removed his hands from his face with a grateful smile. He shot a noticeable glance over at Stephen, who was visibly much more relaxed and now proceeding to lounge over the couch like he was making claim to it. 

“I’ve been doing alright. I didn’t know this many people in this part of town liked flowers that much. A lot of people actually are interested, and I’ve arranged more weddings, proposals, baby showers, graduations and stuff than I can imagine. Maybe things won’t be so bad after all,” Hosuh sighed, a rueful yet hopeful smile forming on his face. His grey eyes had gone soft and painfully tender. There was an air of vulnerability around him, like delicate frost crystallising over water droplets; a bearing of rawness that neither Dan or Stephen wanted to break.

Dan could only wonder what Stephen had done to gain this much of Hosuh’s trust this fast. 

Hosuh lowered his legs from the couch and leaned back into Stephen’s arm that had been placed over the back of the couch. He undid his hair from its usual low ponytail, and Stephen’s fingers almost instinctively started running gently through Hosuh’s silvery strands, lightly caressing each lock he ran through his fingers. Hosuh’s shoulders relaxed gradually into Stephen’s touch with a small, content smile pulling at his lips.

When he met Daniel’s pointed stare, Hosuh jerked upright and grabbed his hair, shaking Stephen’s hand off, and bunched it up in a tighter, higher ponytail. 

Daniel coughed quietly into his palm, straightening in his seat. He was probably intruding into too much couple time, and he didn’t want to put Hosuh in a tough position having to pull out on dating time to accommodate to him. 

But the root of his growing impatience and discomfort settled unceremoniously in the back of his head. He was itching to find out more information about this Stephen. Too many unknowns were floating around in his head, and he hated the feeling. It made the gears in his mind turn faster than he could control. He wanted his suspicions verified as soon as he could. 

He didn’t want to be sitting around the possible target in such a candid setting — he’d much rather prefer to watch him from the shadows, or outright interrogate him in an institute of law enforcement. Perhaps he would come back to Hosuh’s another time. 

Besides, weren’t Hosuh and Stephen going to head out for lunch or something? 

“Hey, Hosuh, I think I’ll visit you some other time. I mean, you’re all dressed and ready to go out anyway, and it’s my fault I assumed you didn’t have plans. I’m sorry for bothering you too. Guess I’ll head back now.” 

Hosuh sprung up from his seat, shaking his head quickly. “No, no it’s fine! You came all this way, after all. I should thank you.”

Daniel shook his head, downing up the last of his tea. “No, it’s alright. I’ll visit you next week after work or something. I’ll Skype you tonight?”

The crestfallen expression on Hosuh’s face brought upon the kind of pity and guilt that denying a puppy its toy gave someone. Dan ignored it, and moved over to the kitchen to rinse his cup.

“Sorry, Dan,” Hosuh said, his voice thin and barely audible.

“Don’t apologise for having friends, Hosuh. I think it’s really great that you have someone else you can make plans with and hang out with,” Dan said plainly. The trickle of water from the tap filled the apartment for a moment. 

“Alright,” Hosuh said, his voice slightly more affirmative, “Promise me you’ll call?” 

Dan nodded. “Of course.” 

Dan had other motivations for speaking to Hosuh, anyway. 

Dan grabbed his things from the coffee table, making a move towards the door. Stephen stood next to Hosuh, holding the door open for Daniel. There was a hint of worry behind Hosuh’s eyes as he fiddled with the ends of his ponytail, almost as if he was ashamed. Concerned eyes from Stephen drifted down toward Hosuh’s petit frame, quietly analysing Hosuh’s reactions, and Dan felt dread sinking into his body. 

He wanted so very much to believe that this man was not his target.

Stephen’s eyes were apologetic, as if he was holding back words. Daniel offered as sincere a smile he could muster, and said, “Take care of him, yeah?”

Much to Daniel’s astonishment, Stephen’s face softened instantly with tender-eyed affection and he nodded once, firm and determined. 

“Bye, Daniel. We’ll talk tonight,” Hosuh said, his voice a little heavy as he wrapped his arms around Dan’s torso tightly, reluctant to let go.

“Enjoy your date, Hosuh,” Dan teased again, sending a wink at Stephen over Hosuh’s head. The former looked away, worrying his bottom lip, and Hosuh slapped Dan’s arm, groaning in exasperation.

Eventually Dan left the apartment, his mind now safe to be ravaged with theories and contradictions. He rushed back to the hotel, barely able to focus on anything else. He’d almost gotten hit by a bike on the way back, but he simply moved on quicker. The adrenaline in his veins was pumping too fast to stop and yell. 

Flinging his shoes to the corner of his room, he dived to his laptop. His fingers worked on autopilot, firing up documents after reports after databases. He needed all the information he had listed under the name “Stephen Lim”. 

Once he gained access to all documents in the police database, he scrolled down furiously until he found the name he was looking for. The document contained all the places and institutions “Stephen Lim” was named under and every bit of relevant information he and the Calgary criminal investigations unit could scrap up. 

The info wouldn’t be complete, definitely, but yet no one, under normal circumstances would consider this person out of the ordinary. The information was consistent, and it tallied with records all over the world. This was the work of a master, the product of years of planning. 

This was how the son of the Vancouver Cartel could fly under the radar. 

Daniel’s hands worked with fervour as he penned down important details he needed to confirm. He would validate as much of this as he could with Hosuh, and follow up with observation of the man he met today. He knew Hosuh wasn’t a legitimate source of information, but it would do for now. He was in a frenzy, head spinning with the unbridled desire to uncover more. Was he really closer to his target than he thought? 

Right now Dan just needed to match a face to the name he had. 

Daniel had jotted down the name of “Stephen Lim”’s employer information, owned property, and immigration details. He was apparently a copywriter for Grey Advertising, had quite a good standing in his job. The identity he took was of a supposedly Singaporean man who moved to Montreal when he was twelve. He owed a single property; a two-bedroom apartment on Rue Notre-Dame Ouest.

The same street Hosuh lived on. 

Dan’s palpitating heart lurched. A single thought pierced through his turbulent mind. 

Was Hosuh safe? 

And to speak of the devil. In that instant, a caller notification popped up on his laptop screen with Hosuh’s profile picture — a cute drawing of himself — right smack in the centre. Dan’s cursor hovered over the accept call button. His mind was swarming, his pulse thrumming in his throat from a combination of fear, worry, and adrenaline. Merely making correlations between the Stephen today and his information had sent him into hyperdrive already, and Daniel was more or less certain he had the right guy. Dan felt apprehension knotting in the pits of his stomach, and considered not picking up the call. What would he say to Hosuh? How could he warn him about “Stephen Lim” without revealing too much? How could he tell him the man he (probably) loved was most likely the man Dan was hunting? 

He needed information, he reasoned to himself. And he had to speak to Hosuh to gain that. 

Maybe Hosuh didn’t actually have a thing for Stephen. Maybe he’d realise something was up and back off from him to protect himself. Maybe his Stephen, by a sliver of chance, wasn’t the man he was looking for. But before he could jump the gun, Dan needed more intel. What better place to get that than from a close friend of Stephen? 

He drew a hesitant breath and clicked the button apprehensively. He would deal with the rest of his worries later; right now was about finding out all he could. 

A slightly grainy picture of Hosuh propping his cheek up against his palm on the desk popped up. The smiling Hosuh waved, but the movement was laggy onscreen. He had his hair done up in a strange fashion, which barely looked comfortable in a home setting. 

“What’s with the hair?” Dan asked. Seeing Hosuh’s carefree demeanour had eased the tension off in Dan’s cold hotel room, and Daniel found himself able to laugh and tease again.

Hosuh’s smile grew embarrassed and warmth bloomed in his eyes. He ducked his head bashfully, and his fingers began to work the intricate folds in his hair gently, an almost dreamy expression on his face. “Oh, Stephen braided my hair. I... I liked it, so I thought I would, you know, keep it on for a while longer.”

Daniel could think of no other words than, “You two are so gay.”

Hosuh’s head snapped up, an indignant scowl on his face. “No, we are not! I don’t like him that way!”

Dan snorted. “Quit acting like a schoolgirl, Hosuh. Whatever heterosexual means, your Stephen lovingly braiding your hair ain’t it.” 

Hosuh threw himself onto the desk, dragging a hand across his face. “No, Dan, we’re not like that. Stop teasing.”

Dan chortled dramatically, and he caught side of his notepad resting on the table next to his laptop. He was suddenly reminded of his motive as the room settled back into silence, the whirring of his electronics suddenly deafening. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Anyway, I’m sorry for upping and leaving your place all of a sudden.” His tone was a little too brisk, too formal, he realised. He inhaled slowly, trying to keep in character.

Hosuh drew himself back into a sitting position, frowning ever so slightly. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s probably better that you left, too, honestly; otherwise things might have been awkward. I mean, you didn’t know I had Stephen over. I’ve never told you about Stephen. Sorry about that.” 

“No, that’s not something to be sorry about. Was Stephen offended?” Daniel eased his way into an opportunity to talk about Stephen. 

“No, not at all. He said you looked like a nice guy, and I told him about what you did for me when... you know. The money thing at home happened.” Hosuh went quiet for a moment, his eyes downcast. 

“I’m no saint, Hosuh, and it’s over now. No reason to be so sad. Anyway, you have two people rooting for you now; me and Stephen. Isn’t that great?” Dan said, with genuine concern. He cocked his head, peering into his friend’s eyes.

“Yeah. Stephen’s... a great guy, actually.” 

Daniel swooped in. 

“Is he? When did you meet him? I think it’s time for me to know the tea, Hosuh,” Dan said, feigning cheekiness. 

“About a week ago? He just strode in after work one day and hung around until 9pm. He told me I was his client at the advertising firm that I contacted for ads. It was kinda funny, actually. I almost cut his face with my shears.” A shy smile filled with humour crept onto his lips, and he looked downwards at his fingers to conceal it. 

Daniel stole a glance at his notes. Stephen Lim, Grey Advertising. 

Interesting.

“You paid for adverts? Shook.” 

“I know, right?” Hosuh said, eyes glinting with laughter. “Heard of Grey Advertising? I hired them. The company’s successful, and services are freakin’ expensive.”

Bingo. 

Dan laughed, a sound lacking in his normal cheerfulness. Queasiness was starting to settle in, but it was pushed aside by sheer anticipation. Hosuh didn’t seem to notice. 

“Did he piss you off or something? Why did you try and fight him with gardening tools? Jeez, Hosuh,” Dan pressed, shifting in his seat in the most natural way he could so that he could get a better view of his notes. 

“No,” a breathy laugh followed, “He was really friendly. Approachable. Said he wanted to check out the place because he lived around the area and was interested. I just did that because I was scared me talking to him was illegal.” Hosuh let out a tiny giggle, running his hand over his braided hair again. 

He lived around the area. That matched up. 

“He lives nearby? Convenient for future hook-ups, eh,” Dan said, winking suggestively at the camera. Hosuh groaned again, yelling Dan’s name a few decibels too loud. 

“He lives in the block across the street. He owns a two-room by himself,” Hosuh answered after the fuss he had put up. 

“On the same street?” Dan asked, raising an eyebrow in interest. 

“Yeah. Not on the same section of the road, though. A block down, on the opposite. Pretty nearby, right?” Hosuh’s face brightened with a smile. 

Dan’s eyes darted toward his notes again, brimming with excitement. 

Bingo, again. 

“Uh-huh, y’all can meet more often to suck face since you’re living so close. Heck, just move in with him,” Dan said, rolling his eyes, his attention leaving his notepad. 

“Dan!” Hosuh said, his voice jumping two octaves, “No.” 

A chorus of laughter followed. All of a sudden a thought came to Daniel’s attention; he was literally interrogating Hosuh and exploiting his desire to share about his new friend. A sort of guilt followed this revelation, but Dan forced it to the back of his mind. This was for the sake of duty, and he would not renounce an information source no matter how seemingly immoral. He would get whatever information he could as an investigator, and only then settle Hosuh’s predicament as a friend. 

“What’s he like? You’re awfully close to him for someone you just met a week ago.” 

“He’s... I don’t know, actually. I trust him more than most people for some reason, and he’s always so understanding. He doesn’t judge, and he always listens whenever I have something to say. He actually invests time to learn more about the things I’m interested in, like when he came into the shop on Wednesday so excited to show me his new flower arranging skills that he learnt off of YouTube....” Hosuh trailed off with a small chuckle, hands running down the length of his braid tenderly, “He... He’s really lovely, I guess. I want to put in effort to get to know him as much as he already has for me.” 

Hosuh’s gaze was soft as he stared past the camera, barely focusing on Dan. Dan had never seen him look so...

In love, he realised. 

Daniel could only sigh. Hosuh deserved better than to find out that the Stephen Lim he knew was all a show. 

“I hope Stephen’s the right one for you, Hosuh,” Dan lied, right through his teeth, ruefulness and pity buried within his half-smile. 

“Daniel...” Hosuh warned, then slumped into his chair, “It’s really not like that. But if it is...” Hosuh’s eyes darted around the room, a pink growing on his cheeks. “You’ll be the first to know.” 

“I mean, it’s Canada. It’s okay, Hosuh. If you’re anything but straight, I’ll support you all the way,” Daniel’s gaze melted as he realised what Hosuh meant. “Is Stephen native? If he’s native, he’ll probably stand a higher chance accepting it than if he were from somewhere else.” 

Hosuh shook his head. “No, he’s from Singapore. Came over here when he was twelve. For better education, apparently. He studied at l’Université de Montréal here.” 

Dan’s eyes fell upon the notepad. 

Everything checked out perfectly. Stephen Lim, his target, was within reach. 

The hunt was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!!
> 
> Thank you so much for your support on this work. I never expected so many people to actually enjoy my story. This was originally written as more of a personal writing project thing and it was my friend who encouraged me to post it, so I’m really glad you guys are liking it. 
> 
> I’m very sorry for not updating for a while now! We had exams and it was a wreck
> 
> \- Disclaimer I really hope real Hosuh’s fam isn’t in debt I feel horrible for writing such a thing but hey it’s for plot and these characters are should be treated as OCs and not the real deal  
> \- Gudetama is an adorable Japanese cartoon character most of us Asians love it HAHA  
> \- Also the places and companies etc mentioned here are actually real but no the guys from DanPlan don’t stay there/work there I’m sure y’all know. It was the result of fooling around on Google Earth.
> 
> Thank you very much once again!


	5. Chapter 5

What _was_ that? 

Hosuh shrieked, in what he could only comprehend as pure mortification.

Why would he say that? 

Pushing the table forcefully, he propelled the chair away from the desk, which subsequently toppled to the side, catapulting him onto his bed behind him. He let out a long groan, clambering onto his freshly-laundered sheets. Like a distressed foetus, he promptly curled himself up into a ball of shame.

He replayed the conversation he had with Daniel in his head, cringing at every word he’d said. He’d implied so many things about himself that he had never previously thought about, and he could remember the brief smile of sympathy that flashed across Daniel’s visage. Daniel’s words of encouragement echoed back to him. 

_“If you’re anything but straight, I’ll support you all the way.”_

He was going to lose his mind at this rate. 

Now the problem wasn’t with being gay itself. Hosuh was in no way homophobic. But was it even possible to have a gay awakening at twenty four years of age? 

Memories of his time with Stephen ran through his mind and he sifted through each one, carefully weighing his thoughts and feelings. He remembered the way Stephen’s fingers calloused from writing brushed the nape of his neck just earlier in the day, braiding together locks of hair from his scalp, low voice a hum next to his ear. His sweet smiles, his arrogant smirks, his wide, sincere grins. The indescribable look in his dark eyes whenever Hosuh spoke to him, and the way it made him feel all mushy and contented and special. Hosuh could feel, as a warm tingle across his back, the sensations of being held in Stephen’s firm arms cradling him as he bawled like a child, listening to the deep, hushed, soothing whisper of his voice.

Hosuh realised he could live the whole of eternity in those arms. 

And it was at that exact moment Hosuh knew he was gay as hell. 

For Stephen? 

Hosuh let out another unholy screech, flopping over onto his tummy and burying his head in his arms. It couldn’t be possible. He’d never even thought he would be this gay — wasn’t prolonged staring, blushing at half-naked male models on Instagram normal for everybody? He’d only exclusively dated girls, even if it was only two so far at that, so he couldn’t be _that_ gay, right? 

Stephen’s sudden intrusion into his supposed heterosexuality was inconvenient. 

But it was also delightful. 

As much as Hosuh despised it, he felt a pleasant shiver go down his spine as the unwanted thought of being coddled by Stephen entered his confused mind. He’d only met Stephen a week ago, and was a week enough to form a crush? 

Probably, he told himself. That’s what crushes were; temporary, fleeting. It would go away soon enough. Hopefully.

So did that mean he was gay?

Sighing, he crawled across his bed and reached for his phone on the desk in a very unsightly manner. After almost tumbling to the ground where his abandoned chair lay, he seized his phone and sprawled across his bed once more, holding his phone above his head. 

He opened the Safari app hesitantly. How very embarrassing to be a twenty four year old man debating whether he liked guys or not. This was what teenagers did when they went through puberty and the time of finding out more about themselves, not when they were old, out in the world, and struggling with life.

Hosuh switched the search engine to incognito, out of nothing but paranoia. There was nothing to be ashamed about, he knew intellectually. What he was scared of, he didn’t know. Perhaps he was ashamed for having to Google something like this for answers. 

Tapping the search bar deliberately, he typed quickly so that he wouldn’t have to see what he was searching. It was childish, this embarrassment and stark self-consciousness, but he couldn’t help it. 

In went the words, _Am I gay?_ Scrolling quickly through the articles listed, he tapped on a random one which seemed more helpful than the multiple _How gay are you?_ quizzes meant for fun. 

He skimmed through the page. One thing that comforted him was the assurance that it was normal for people to find out until later in life. Hell, there were people who got married and had kids, only to realise and come out as gay later on. Then maybe this wasn’t the biggest issue here. 

He read on, and most websites talked about what the different sexualities were, how to deal with your newfound identity, coming out, sex, STIs, and the like. He didn’t know there were so many identities, so many terms, or so many things to do. 

Was he bisexual? Or pansexual? Or polysexual? According to prior experience, it seemed that the most reasonable deduction was that he liked both men and wonen, apparently. Was this even called liking men, however? Maybe he just liked attention, and Stephen, who just so happened to be a guy, gave him a lot of attention. There were so many unanswered pressing questions. How would he come out? Did he have to? What if this was just a phase, and he rushed everything and then Dan would laugh and his parents would never speak to him again? And sex? Hosuh was no virgin, but he did not talk about sex in this household. 

Even with that said, there was no possible way to banish the spicy thoughts that had invaded his mind as if on command.

So how hot was Stephen, really? 

Hosuh squawked again, his face burning. He couldn’t possibly have tried to imagine that. Stephen was a friend, nothing more. It was creepy, downright sinful to be thinking of such things. Tossing about the bed, he lay on his back once again and scrolled furiously through his messages on the messaging app, trying his hardest to keep his mind distracted. 

When his phone vibrated in his hand with a new message, the entirety of his body jolted, and his face grew even hotter, shame building in the pits of his stomach as if he was a child being caught stealing from the cookie jar. Hosuh’s phone landed right smack on his face. 

Groaning softly in pain, he pulled himself up into a cross-legged position atop his sheets. Hurriedly he looked at the new text, and his heart leaped, but he shrank back with embarrassment at his response. 

The text was simple; it was just a greeting that said _Hosuh!!_ from none other than Stephen. Stephen continued typing, and Hosuh waited before replying while he tried to soothe his racing heart. 

Daniel’s words repeated in his mind again; _quit being a schoolgirl, Hosuh._

Easier said than done, Daniel.

Stephen’s next text came with another vibration from the phone. 

_The creative director Jay and I are heading out this Friday after work for drinks. Wanna join?_

Hosuh’s fingers stalled over the screen. Should he say yes?

_Jay’s a close friend of mind even outside work, and it’s not work-related at all so it’s legal, sweetheart ;)_

Hosuh snorted upon reading his new text. Ignoring the blush that begun to warm his cheeks, he typed out a reply: 

_Stephennnn no_

A few messages pinged in right after, and Hosuh gave up trying to control the smile that was spreading rapidly across his face. 

_As in you don’t wanna go?_

_bb pleaseee it’ll be lonely without you!!_

_I mean Jay’s good company but he’s Jay he’ll get so drunk_

Hosuh sighed, thinking about how to phrase his words. He did want to go, obviously, but he was poor, he was going to be awkward especially with Jay, who he’d met only twice in client negotiations. And surely the company had regulations for employee relationships with clients? 

_Maybe but are you sure it’s legal?_

_Definitely!!_ Stephen replied in a flash. _If you’re scared we can think of it as rapport-building between client and employee. No one will know, plus you’re only going to be our client for another month or so._

Huffing out a long stream of air that sent his bangs flying, Hosuh considered it for a while. There was no doubt that he wanted to go. Stephen was right, they could likely get away with it since Hosuh had already sealed the deal with the company and were just waiting to review the end product. Hosuh knew rapport-building was a thing, and there were plenty of circumstances where a client would go out with representatives from the company to further negotiations, or gain more trust. It wouldn’t hurt to go, would it? 

In addition, meeting Jay without the professional setting he was used to would be nice. 

Seeing Stephen again would also be nice. 

Letting out a soft ‘tsk’ sound, Hosuh glared at the desk in front of his bed. He really did sound like a lovesick, hormonal teenager. 

Well, he couldn’t really blame himself. He’d literally just came to the fact that he was gay fifteen minutes ago. 

_So?_ came Stephen’s text after moments of idling. 

Hosuh took a breath, staring at his phone for a while. Then he typed.

_I’ll go._

Friday evening rolled around quickly enough. Hosuh allowed himself to get off work early to prepare. Stephen had dropped by his shop once or twice during the week, busying himself with lending Hosuh some greatly appreciated help no matter how many times Hosuh begged him not to. It seemed that Stephen truly enjoyed being there minding the shop with Hosuh, arranging bouquets and even just engaging in simple chatter.

But still, Hosuh was stressed. He wanted to make a good impression on Jay, even though they’d already met on multiple occasions. He didn’t know the first thing about etiquette at a pub, if there even was such a thing, and he absolutely didn’t know what to wear that would be considered presentable enough. 

He’d taken a shower and was rummaging through his closet half-heartedly The clothes he had were either too plain, too casual, too racy (although the number of such articles of clothing were limited) or too formal. 

But he did want to go, and he was going to try to look as put together as he could. 

Hosuh glanced over at his desk, contemplating a new idea that had sprung up in his mind. The entire situation was strange, and he didn’t really know what to do, but dressing up a little more than usual couldn’t do any harm, right? 

He pounced onto the bed, clambering over to his desk. Forcefully pulling out the bottom-most drawer, he inhaled sharply. 

There lay a whole Lancôme makeup kit which he barely touched at all. Daniel had bought him the set on his birthday last month as a prank. Daniel had then proceeded to try out makeup techniques from the beauty gurus he watched online on Hosuh, and paraded him around town. What Dan didn’t know was that despite the humiliation he suffered at the hands of Daniel’s poor sense of humour, Hosuh genuinely appreciated the gift. Hosuh was no makeup artist, of course, but makeup made him look pretty and he couldn’t deny he liked being pretty. 

Perhaps he also wanted to look pretty for a special someone? 

Biting his lip, he pushed the thought away and took out the makeup set gingerly from its shelf, setting it on the table. The makeup kit contained compact powder in his skin tone, eight subtle shades of eyeshadow, a powder blusher, 3 shades of lip rouge, mascara, and an startling black eye pencil. 

It was Lancôme, so it had to be expensive. The makeup held within didn’t look cheap either. Hosuh had demanded multiple times for the cost of the set so that he could pay Dan back in the future, but Daniel refused and Hosuh had to concede. In the end, the only payment Daniel received from Hosuh was a face for him to experiment on and put on show in public. 

Hosuh moved quickly, carrying the kit carefully and setting it lightly on top of his clothes drawers in front of the mirror. Pulling out the rack of drawers, he selected a beige silk shirt and black slim-fit slacks, praying to himself he’d look nice in it. 

Clothes were on in a jiffy, and Hosuh was soon standing in front of his drawers, a finger smeared with nude lip rouge. He looked into the mirror, painting his pale lips with a darker matte finish of a cream hue. The thin layer of champagne eyeshadow was stunning, in his opinion; ornamental, but not too bold. He’d ensured that he hadn’t gone overboard with his makeup. There was only a slight bit of eyeshadow, the nude lip, exquisitely manicured brows, mascara, and a layer of compact powder. It wasn’t too much, he hoped. 

Closing the kit, he moved it back into the desk drawer and grabbed a comb to brush through his silver strands, tying it neatly into the usual low ponytail. He took a last look at the mirror, adjusting a few strands atop his head fastidiously, and took his valuables. He left the apartment. 

It was around 6.30pm when a black sedan Hosuh recognised as Stephen’s pulled up outside the apartment building, right in front of the flower shop. Hosuh had been waiting for ten minutes or so, keeping himself entertained with his phone.

As such, Hosuh did not expect the car’s passenger seat window to be down, revealing a loud, hollering, messy blond. 

“Pretty flower shop boy!” the man who Hosuh used to consider as collected and professional hooted from the passenger seat. “Do you remember me?”

Hosuh nodded, slightly stunned the switch in demeanour, “Y-yeah. Jay, right?” 

“He has a name, Jay,” an irritated, familiar voice clipped. Hosuh peered past Jay’s fervently nodding head that was poking out of the window to look at Stephen sitting at the wheel. 

Stephen was tapping the steering wheel in annoyance, in the midst of rolling his eyes. He had his regular dress shirt on, lacking a tie, with the top few buttons undone. His hair was unrulier than usual, his indigo and dark brown curls wilder than how Hosuh normally saw them. And truth be told, he looked good like that. 

Hosuh looked away the moment Stephen caught him staring, heat creeping up his neck. He felt extremely exposed, extremely overdressed, and extremely out-of-place. 

Tonight was going to be a long night. 

Swiftly Hosuh got into the backseat of the car, settled behind the passenger’s seat. Jay immediately turned around, turning the volume of the car’s radio up far too high. The contrast between Jay’s large shit-eating grin and Stephen’s sunken, soulless eyes was hilarious. Hosuh couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. 

“Oh my god, he giggled,” Jay exclaimed, rather excitedly. Hosuh had never seen Jay out of the office, where he was always calm and professional, ready to engage in business. Here, he was a strong contender for the most obnoxious person, right next to Daniel. Hosuh was living for it. 

Hosuh cocked his head, laughter leaving his lips. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it; you two are funny.”

“Oh my god, is that makeup?” Jay said, ignoring Hosuh’s prior response, voice getting louder by the word. He turned back and forth, looking between Hosuh and Stephen. At one point he smacked Stephen’s arm, inviting an emphatic hiss and a curse from him. 

“Yeah, it’s makeup, genius,” Hosuh quipped, a smirk no where near as smooth as Stephen’s own forming on his lips. 

Glancing at the rearview mirror, Hosuh caught sight of Stephen’s gaze studying his face, a sort of dazed look in his eyes. Hosuh, feeling his face turning pink, offered a shy smile. 

He could have sworn Stephen blushed while turning away. 

“Jesus, Hosuh, what brand?” Jay asked, paying no attention to Hosuh’s sass. Th e cocoon of warmth that had formed around Hosuh popped instantly, bringing him back to the noisy reality of Jay screaming at him through the pumping music. 

“Uh, Lancôme. My friend Daniel bought a set for me on my birthday.”

Jay let out a small gasp, “Holy shit, Hosuh, you look so pretty that I’m surprised you hang out with an ugly asshat like Stephen.” 

Stephen immediately shot out an arm to cut off the music, plunging the car into silence before he barked out a loud curse at Jay. Instead of getting angry, like Hosuh was sure the Jay he knew in the office would, Jay just lost his shit laughing.

These two were hilarious. 

The car ride was enjoyable. Stephen and Jay were a wreck, both of them hurling insults and each other and Stephen once threatening to run the car into a building just so he could kill Jay. There was never a moment Hosuh wasn’t smiling or laughing. 

When they pulled up on a crowded road next to a busy pub in the city centre, Hosuh’s chest tightened with nervousness. Objectively, everything would be okay, and they would just enjoy a few drinks, but there was a nagging feeling of doubt in Hosuh’s mind. It had been ages since he’d last gone to a pub, and that one was quaint and peaceful, not rambunctious and packed like this one. Would he piss someone off and start a fight? Or get mugged? 

“Hosuh, looks like we’ll be babysitting tonight,” Hosuh heard Stephen say, and shifted his gaze to look into Stephen’s dark eyes as Stephen rounded the front of the car and moved to stand beside Hosuh. He let out a soft, unsure hum of confusion, and the look on Stephen’s face melted into something that made Hosuh’s insides all gooey and stupid.

“Jay’s notorious for drinking, Hosuh. It’s up to you and me to make sure he doesn’t kill himself tonight.” 

“I think he’s more prone to killing someone else, actually,” Hosuh stated matter-of-factly, shutting the car door behind him. Now with Stephen next to him, the tension in his chest seemed to have dissolved, and he felt somewhat more confident. Never mind his rapid-beating heart as he felt Stephen’s warmth surrounding him. 

Stephen laughed, turning to lock the car doors. Jay was already halfway through the entrance of the pub, greeting people inside as if they were all old friends of his. 

Seeing as to how numerous other pub-goers bellowed out greetings, some even lumbering over to slap Jay on the back, perhaps Jay was indeed a well-known regular. 

They were settled down into a booth very quickly, with pints of beers in front of them. Jay had downed two pints in a short period of time, and the heavy scent of liqueur permeated through the air in the pub. Pints and mixing glasses were clinking all around the room, with roars of laughter from groups of customers, and barks and calls of people in the bar watching a hockey game on the TV screen. The lights in the pub were dim, glowing a warm golden atop wooden tables and bar counters, casting dark shadows across the stone walls. The only bright lights in the room were from the bar cabinets and television screens, and the occasional flash of a camera. The booth that the three were in was particularly dark, and Jay had claimed that it was his ‘favourite’. God only knew what the man got up to in his free time. 

Stephen was sighing, twisting open a mineral water bottle with a satisfying crack. Dragging Jay’s third pint of beer away from him, he plonked the bottle down on the table, and Jay reluctantly reached for it and drank it, sloshing the water in his mouth. Jay was flushed, but the mischievous glint in his eye was unmistakable. There was no stopping the guy. 

“So, Hosuh,” Jay began, leaning over the table. Hosuh sat up a little straighter on reflex, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “So tell me how you met this piece of shit here?”

Before Hosuh could register Jay was referring to Stephen, Stephen retorted, “This is employee abuse, Creative Director.” 

“Not if I say it isn’t!” Jay laughed, taking another chug of beer. 

“Um, Stephen just came into the shop, like, three weeks ago, and we talked and got along,” Hosuh said. It was beginning to feel as if he’d told this story one too many times. 

Jay then said abruptly, with no explanation, “I need to shit.” 

Stephen let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Then go. I don’t have to follow you, right?” 

Jay shook his head, and left, leaving just Hosuh and Stephen seated at the lush red velvet booth.

Stephen cleared his throat, taking a sip of his beer. He was barely halfway through his pint, and that was good, because he would be driving all of them home later. And Hosuh didn’t want to die just yet.

“He’ll take a while. He always does this; drinks three pints and goes to take a really long shit. And he’ll probably try to make friends with the bartenders or a random group of guys and the last time we were here, he ended up playing cards with a group of buff ass dudes all the way till midnight,” Stephen explained, fiddling with his collar. 

Once again, Hosuh’s attention was drawn to where Stephen’s slender fingers moved. The gold glow of the pub lights illuminated Stephen’s pale throat, and Hosuh studied every outline, every contour; the way his strong jaw led down along his neck to the bump in his Adam’s apple, and Hosuh traced the line dipping into the bend towards his firm shoulders with his mind. The booth was dark, so the features of his face were unclear, but there was a telltale sign of Asian flush from his neck to the cheekbones, even if he hadn’t drunk much. 

Hosuh realised he had been silent for far too long, having spent too long drinking in Stephen’s silhouette against the soft glow of lights and darkness. 

Stephen called Hosuh’s name, turning to face him. Their eyes met, Hosuh’s gaze full of longing and admiration, and Stephen’s becoming tender as he took in the sight before him; Hosuh’s lips wet and slightly apart, face pink, eyes glassy and wide, all framed by the strands of silver hair fallen out of his ponytail, enveloping his face. 

Hosuh couldn’t process what was happening as he felt hands taking hold of his hips steadily but gently, and he felt himself being hoisted up ever so slightly above the booth. A thigh slipped beneath his bottom, and he was lowered gently atop it. On instinct he placed his hands onto what was in front of him, which happened to be the same shoulders he had stared at seconds ago. 

He definitely didn’t know what was going on. His pulse was racing as he glided his fingers across the set of shoulders, knotting them behind Stephen’s neck. His breath was unsteady, and he had to gulp down a nervous lump in his throat, but Stephen’s assuring gaze comforted him. There was no hunger in his eyes, no dominance, no force; just plain adoration. He was, contrary to everything his body was doing at the moment, at ease. Why was Stephen the only one to make him feel this way? 

When Stephen spoke, Hosuh felt the reverberation of his deep, lowered voice through his body, thrumming from every point of contact between them. 

“You’re beautiful, Hosuh.” 

It was a quiet moment they shared after those priceless words had been uttered. Hosuh was seated atop Stephen’s left thigh, each of them staring into the other’s eyes, picking out hidden parts of each other’s souls as they wandered into the depths of each other’s gazes. The pub had seemingly gone silent, all the laughter and clinking fading into white noise and nonsense, because the only sound that mattered was their shared breathing, taking breath after breath together. The gold glow of the pub lights lit up every part of each other’s visages perfectly, making the other look perfect in every way. Maybe this was all Hosuh wanted. To have someone with him, looking at him with eyes that were so caring, loving, so terribly fond. To have _Stephen_ hold him in his arms over and over again, sharing as many quiet moments like this as he wanted. 

“But I’m sorry, Hosuh,” Stephen whispered, breaking the fragile silence they had. His thumb began to rub circles over Hosuh’s hip, sending delightful, delicious sensations up and down his spine, but Hosuh was confused. Sorry? What for? 

“I’m... not the right one for you, Hosuh,” Stephen said, voice almost inaudible. Hosuh blinked, not yet roused out of his serene bliss.

“I hide too many things, Hosuh. And you’re so... trusting. You show your vulnerabilities so easily. I can’t be the same with you, and you shouldn’t trust me with your defences down.”

“What?” Hosuh could only murmur, his lips pulling into a frown. 

“You deserve someone trustworthy, Hosuh. Someone who can protect you when you’re vulnerable. I’m not that person. I’m not any person, really. This whole — who I am... I lie, Hosuh.” 

“That’s okay, everyone lies,” Hosuh consoled, shifting his hand to Stephen’s shoulder and massaging it gently, “Are you okay?” 

“H-Hosuh. We’re not talking about the same thing, Hosuh. I-I’m a lie, sweetheart. You can’t trust something like me who’s fooled people his entire life. I want you to be safe, and I want you to stay away, Hosuh. I’m telling you this, and I’m serious.” Stephen’s thumb stalled, and he tapped his fingers against Hosuh’s hip once. 

The same way he lifted Hosuh onto his thigh, he put him back onto the red velvet booth, eyes vacant, face expressionless.

In an instant, the noise of the busy pub rushed back to him, lights seeming startlingly bright. Hosuh was left breathless and wanting, abruptly reminded of his foreign, uncomfortable surroundings.

The things that Stephen had said resembled the ramblings of a drunkard. But there was a sort of gravity to his words; a kind of heaviness and regret that only someone sober and wide-awake but painfully reticent could produce. 

By the time Jay came back from his pub trysts, Hosuh was chugging beer to get his mind off the matter and Stephen was staring off into the distance, eyes hollow. 

Hosuh didn’t understand. Just as he felt he could be intimate with this man, just as he thought he was close enough to him to understand him, he slipped out of his grasp again, as elusive as the moon on winter nights. Hosuh could accept that he liked men, he could accept he liked Stephen, but there was something bigger, something more worrying he was just not comprehending. 

No amount of tossing and turning in bed that night could help sort it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I’m so sorry for not updating in a while big yikes! I’m determined to finish this story, so don’t worry, I won’t abandon this project at all. 
> 
> This chapter was also a little shorter than the rest, because it was supposed to establish Hosuh’s very personal side of the story, which is significantly less complicated than the whole drug cartel crime chasing thing Dan and Stephen are doing, which was introduced last chapter.
> 
> It was full of gay this time round, but the next chapter will be a bit more tense. Without spoiling anything, we will be getting into Dan’s motivations and calculated actions. Do look out for that!
> 
> Thank you very much for reading Manhunt once again and thank you for all the lovely comments you’ve left me! It really gives me motivation to continue writing :) More comments, be it compliments or constructive criticism, are fully welcomed! 
> 
> Adieu till the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Canadian snowfall was notorious. The sky was foggy with mist, and the ground was covered with fresh snowfall from the night before. It was only late January, a week after he had left Calgary for Montreal, but it was still freezing out. No matter how brightly the sun shone at 10am in the morning, Montreal would not get warmer than -5 degrees in the day. 

Daniel’s thick army green trench coat flapped against his legs in the strong wind. He kept his head bowed to keep out the snow, but his vision was nevertheless clouded over with its blinding white and the thick fog. As he trudged across the road to the block where Hosuh lived, he let his mind recall the events that had transpired in the past month. 

He’d submitted his report at the Montreal Police Headquarters regarding his discovery about “Stephen Lim”. The report contained a thorough background check of what seemed to be his target’s background, listing everything from his financial assets and employment data, to his daily routines and relationships with others. 

It did not contain the events that transpired two nights ago. 

Daniel was doing what could be considered a stakeout, which was still allowed even if he was not a legally recognised part of the police force. He’d gone over to Stephen‘s house on Friday evening before noticing that Stephen was not at home. Perhaps he was out for the night. Daniel had left the building and had made sure to scout the entire district, searching for anything that caught his eye. By the time he rounded back to the block Stephen lived at to check if he had returned, there was a black car pulling up in front of Hosuh’s shop on the opposite block. 

A quick look showed that its number plate matched what he priorly found was Stephen’s exactly. 

Dan had ducked back around the corner, keeping himself shrouded in the shadows of the night. He kept his eyes peeled, peering round the corner discreetly, closely watching the scene unfold in front of him wordlessly. 

The figure that had stepped out of the car was a familiar one. The form’s gender was not easily identifiable, but they were small, slender, dressed in a simple beige blouse and snugly-fit slacks, donning a ponytail that Daniel recognised straightaway. 

Hosuh had looked tired, his face splotchy, visible even in the dimness. Merely sending a non-committal wave to the man inside the car (who Daniel presumed was Stephen), he turned around, seeming to taking a step forward toward the staircase up the block. From the shadows Daniel had tried to peer into the vehicle, but due to his unforgiving angle and the darkness of the night sky, he could see nothing but pitch black through the windows. The vehicle drove off, making a quick turn at the intersection to get into the opposite block, and Daniel quickly turned his attention back to Hosuh.

Hosuh was standing at the sidewalk again, staring off into the distance where the vehicle had gone, his lips in a wobbly frown, reminding Dan of a child forcing back tears. Daniel could see the strain in his throat, tightening with forceful gulps every now and then, his fists curling and relaxing over and over again in something that reflected internal conflict and tension, but not aggression.

What had happened? 

Daniel thought perhaps Stephen and Hosuh had fought. Maybe it was a silly couple’s thing, maybe something had happened on their presumed date. It wasn’t necessarily something Daniel needed to be concerned about, but of course it piqued his interest. Daniel still was overcome by an urge to find out what had happened, regrettably more for reasons regarding Stephen Lim rather than for concern for his friend. 

That was why Daniel was headed over to Hosuh’s place so quickly, right after receiving a text about Friday’s incident. 

Daniel arrived at Hosuh’s doorstep, just like he was a Sunday ago, minus the celebratory balloons and Stephen’s sudden arrival. Knocking on the door, he waited a moment before Hosuh opened the door with significantly less gusto than last week. His hair was undone and let loose, locks draping over his shoulders. It was atypical of the man, that was for sure. 

Daniel settled down on the couch, looking out of the window. The snow was still falling heavily, tumbling from the sky and all Daniel could see out from the window was an endless white. Two mugs of tea was soon settled onto the scratched glass coffee table, and Hosuh collapsed into the couch next to Daniel, leaning his head back into the wall. 

Hosuh looked exhausted. The puffy eye bags around his grey eyes were dark and swollen, and his face was paler than it usually was, taking on a unhealthy yellowish hue. Daniel watched as Hosuh picked up the mug of tea, his fragile hand trembling under the weight of the cup. 

“Oi, you,” Dan said, his voice a little harsher than intended. Hosuh started, spilling a little bit of the tea over the top of the cup. Hosuh hissed, placing the mug down and lunging over to grab a tissue from the box on the table. He rubbed furiously at his jumper, taking advantage of the distraction. 

“Have you been sleeping?” Dan asked, marginally more tenderly.

Hosuh paused, then let out a sigh. He tossed the crumpled and stained tissue paper on the table. Curling his knees up and tucking them to his chest, he shook his head; a small, meek gesture. “Not really.” 

“How much have you slept these few days?” 

“Um,” Hosuh hesitated, “I don’t know. I didn’t get much sleep Friday night, and I got maybe 3 hours last night. I kept waking up, though.” 

“Hosuh,” Daniel said, voice low and serious, “What’s going on?” 

Letting out an unsteady exhale, Hosuh dipped his head into his knees, remaining silent for a while. His voice was muffled when he spoke. 

“I’m just... really bothered about something. Can you help?” 

Daniel nodded, shifting to face Hosuh next to him. “Of course. Tell me when you’re ready.” 

Hosuh straightened, hugging his knees tighter to his chest and rocking back on forth slowly. The couch creaked in response. 

“Dan, I-I think I’m gay,” Hosuh said, his voice uncertain. 

Dan cocked his head. A part of him was proud of Hosuh for coming out, but he also knew what led him to that discovery was Stephen. And that itself was problematic, and extinguished any pride he felt for Hosuh.

“I told you I’d support you all the way. It’s no matter at all. I’m very proud of you, Hosuh. I’m glad you found that out about yourself. Is it Stephen?” Dan asked, slinging an arm round Hosuh’s shoulder and patting his back. 

Hosuh gave a tiny nod, chewing on his bottom lip. “But it’s complicated.” 

“Yeah, this stuff always is complicated. But you were telling me something about Friday night? What happened? You sounded pretty distressed,” Daniel prodded, curiosity seeping in. The image of Hosuh standing on the sidewalk gazing forlornly at where Stephen’s car had long gone flashed in his mind.

Hosuh groaned, lowering his legs into a cross atop the couch. His movements had stopped, but he refused to make eye contact with Daniel. 

“Well,” Hosuh’s strangled voice broke on the single word. “Okay, so we went drinking together, with one of his friends.” 

This didn’t sound like it was going well. 

“And we got, um, pretty intimate, and —“

Dan’s pulse skyrocketed with panic, his stomach knotting with fear. “Hosuh,” Dan hissed, voice soft and laced with urgency. He leaned toward Hosuh, gripping his shoulder apprehensively. “Please tell me he didn’t do anything to you.”

“No, god, no. Stephen’s not like that. I wouldn’t be sitting here like this if he had done anything. No, no, it’s nothing like that.” 

Dan let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in his muscles dissolve. He cupped his freezing hands around his unnaturally warm neck. “Thank god, Hosuh. I was so ready to call up police.” 

A tiny smile cracked on Hosuh’s lips, but he shook his head and tried to mask it. “Yeah, anyway, we got, um, intimate and —“ 

“You used protection, right? Or is that what we were going to talk about?” 

“DANIEL!” Hosuh yelled, cheeks turning red, “We did not have sex! Stop it.” 

Dan chucked, gesturing for him to go on. 

Dragging a hand down his face, Hosuh said, “Anyway. He was all edgy and cold after what we did and he told me to stay away and he said he wasn’t the one for me and stuff and I’m confused because did I do anything wrong?” Hosuh looked up at Dan, his cheeks puffed and lips pursed into a visible pout. 

Dan could see exactly why he’d push Hosuh away — Stephen knew he was dangerous, and didn’t want Hosuh to get caught up in it. So “Stephen Lim” did have a weak spot, and that was Hosuh.

With a tinge of regret, Daniel realised he was prepared to use that to his advantage in any way deemed necessary. 

“No, I don’t think so. He seemed very into you the last time I saw him and I’m a hundred percent convinced he likes you. Yeah, he did pull a bit of a dick move, but maybe he just froze up. I don’t think Stephen’s the kind of person to lead you on like that,” Daniel replied carefully. 

“Really?” Hosuh tilted his head, doubt filling his eyes, “He was really distant throughout the ride home as well. It was as if... I don’t know. It seemed like a goodbye, somehow.” 

Daniel could smell opportunity miles away. His mind began ticking. He was at an advantage here; it would be easy to make Hosuh do whatever Dan wanted to Stephen, if Dan played his cards right. The situation could be turned into something beneficial to Dan. Considering possible outcomes for different circumstances, Dan came to a swift decision. 

He was going to convince Hosuh to speak to Stephen, to reform a deeper connection. That way Stephen would trust Hosuh more, and perhaps be fallible to exposing criminal activity to him. Dan trusted Hosuh’s moral compass would lead him back to Dan, and Dan would get to hear all of it should that be the case. Even if that didn’t happen, Dan would be in a better position to initiate contact with Stephen if it was needed. 

It was an easy win either way. 

“But it doesn’t have to be goodbye, Hosuh. You like him, don’t you? And haven’t you seen how he acts around you, or are you too blind for that?” Dan joked, removing his arm from Hosuh’s shoulder and bringing his legs up onto the couch too. 

Hosuh sniffled, glancing away. “I’m not blind... he wouldn’t like me, though.” 

Dan took a breath, knowing he had to choose his words carefully to make it go his way. He had Hosuh’s unconditional trust, but Hosuh was still a rational being. 

“Who knows? I wouldn’t know what goes on in his mind, but trust me when I say he cares for you. I think you two should talk it out.” 

“How?” Hosuh’s voice was quiet, but he was rapt. 

“I think you should ask him what he meant on Friday night. Ask him what’s going on? Maybe he was a little drunk is all. You wouldn’t know till you ask, would you?”

Hosuh nodded. “But... what do I tell him? And he didn’t show up at the shop yesterday like he usually does, so I might not even see him next week. I don’t know what to do,” Hosuh admitted, looking down the floor and toying with his hair. He brushed his fingers through his hair, gathering it and draping all of it over his right shoulder. 

“Well, he lives nearby, right? You could always drop by if he’s still ignoring you. He’d bound to say something. Hosuh, he cares about you. There’s no need to be losing sleep over such a trivial matter. Whatever you have to say, he’ll listen to you,” Dan said, his tone light and comforting, “What do you _want_ to say?” 

“So many things, Daniel. I wanna ask him what’s going on, why we can’t be closer, why he refuses to let me in. I want to tell him I... I do like him, and I want to ask him to trust me because I trust him so much. He’s done so much for me already. But there’s something I don’t quite get about him yet, Dan, and I want to know what he’s hiding.” 

Dan never thought of Hosuh as this perceptive when it came to social relations. It was another misjudgement on his part, it seemed. 

Daniel considered this for a while. Hosuh knew something more than what he saw was going on, apparently. But the extent of that knowledge was what Daniel couldn’t gauge. Did Hosuh think it was simple secret, like those that everybody tended to hide, or did he suspect something more sinister was at play? 

It didn’t matter, Dan told himself. No matter what Hosuh knew, he would prod Stephen for answers. There was a serious flaw to that, however. Stephen could up and leave Montreal and cut off all connections the moment he was being questioned too much, and Dan would lose sight of his target almost immediately. 

Was Daniel willing to trust in Stephen’s feelings for Hosuh? 

He sucked in a breath too audibly. Hosuh gazed at him with watchful eyes, cocking his head with questioning the way he always did. 

Daniel’s mind was racing, his heart thumping in his throat. He didn’t know if he could afford to lose sight of him. If Hosuh pressed too much, Stephen would either leave, reveal bits and pieces of what was going on, or break down and tell Hosuh everything. Given how much Stephen cared for Hosuh, Dan would guess he wouldn’t leave him so quickly. But who knew?

It was a big risk. Dan had to come to a decision. 

But as always, Daniel was impulsive, no matter how much the importance of thinking logically had been drilled into his head through training and experience. He couldn’t let such an opportunity slip away, even if it meant losing track of Stephen. Daniel was confident that he could always find him again, or request for an extension on his task. 

He cleared his throat, looking Hosuh in the eye. “Then ask him, Hosuh. You won’t know until you ask, and you won’t know if he feels the same about you until you tell him. Your situation is complicated, but mutual understanding and communication is the only way through it. If he refuses to tell you anything, even as much as you ask, then he’s not worth your time. As much as he is loving, he must be trustworthy too. But if he opens up to you, tells you what he’s hiding, and if he likes you as much as you like him, then you’ll be closer, right?” 

Shifting on the couch, Hosuh seemed to be contemplating his situation. Dan studied his worried lip and furrowed brows, searching for any sense of doubt. 

“I... I guess I’ll try. You’re right, I’ve got to talk to him for me to know anything.”

Daniel nodded, squeezing Hosuh’s shoulder. Thank god Hosuh bought it. 

“It’s not going to be easy, Hosuh, but I’m sure you can do it. Don’t stress yourself too much over it. It’s better to lose a few nights of sleep worrying about how to tell him than never sleeping again because you haven’t gotten this off your chest.”

Lifting up his forgotten cup of tea, Dan took a sip, feeling its bitterness and warmth slide over his tongue. Assuming Hosuh listened to him, he would soon tell Stephen how he felt and ask him what was going on, and Dan would be able to find out more from that. 

There was no turning back on his decision. He was going to have to deal with the consequences, no matter what they were. 

Dan stayed with Hosuh for a while more, making a conscious effort to talk about matters more light-hearted than this one. He was there, after all, to cheer Hosuh up. By the time Dan left the apartment, Hosuh was smiling again, his sparkling eyes looking much livelier. 

The wind had settled but the white snow still glistened on the ground. Daniel hadn’t much to do; he’d already submitted his report on Stephen and was left to find out more. His mind wandered back to his plan, his list of objectives yet to be ticked off. 

One of which was to find out if “Stephen Lim” was an completely random, fabricated alias, or if there was something more significant to the identity. Stephen had managed to concoct a very believable and as it seemed, credible story behind his existence, and Daniel found it suspicious that everything was perfectly flawless. 

There was only one way he knew to get at least a lead on that, and that was to visit the headquarters and check classified files.

The database he had access to was heavily restricted, and he couldn’t open files that international police didn’t grant external aid permission to view. He was going to have to visit the Criminal Investigations Service at the Montreal HQ and see what he could find. A train ride down would get him there relatively fast.

A quick handing over of his Vancouver Police Force card and his ID at the reception got him into the Criminal Investigation Service (CIS) department of HQ. The walls were a bright fluorescent, illuminating every inch of the stark white walls and linoleum floors. His footsteps were cushioned by the soft flooring as he paced the walkway toward the foreboding glass door up ahead. 

The office was not particularly busy. A few people donning loose jackets embroidered with the insignia of Montreal’s police force were working at their desks, tapping away at keyboards, or approaching different storage cupboards to access and leaf through files. Nobody seemed to pay him any mind at all. Nothing much of interest seemed to be going on, but it was 12 noon and it was lunchtime. Perhaps most people were on lunch break. 

Tearing his gaze away from the different parts of the office, he focused on his objective. He made his way quickly to the cupboards lining the sides of the room, checking the labels on the cupboards for the most recent date. 

The cupboard whose plastic label read “VC - CONFIDENTIAL” called out to him. VC was the officially recognised initial for the Vancouver Cartel, that much he knew. He approached it swiftly, tugging on the cupboard door. 

It was locked. Of course it would be. It was confidential information, after all. 

Chewing on the inside of his mouth, he moved away from the cupboard towards a glass cabinet where keys hung. As he got closer to the display, there was a glint of circular metal on the top right corner; the keyhole was shining mockingly at him. The cabinet was probably locked too. He was going to have to ask somebody for access. 

He turned around, just in time to see a figure with striking strawberry blonde hair materialising behind the glass door. The woman, clad in the same dark jacket as the rest of the staff, opened the door and staring quizzically and coldly.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice surprisingly high-pitched for a woman who bore the stone cold eyes she glared him down with. The glass door swung closed behind her gently, and she stood with her arms crossed, picking every part of Daniel apart with her steely, assessing gaze. 

“Good afternoon, Ma’am, I’m Daniel Lim from the Calgary Private Investigations firm, hired by Vancouver Criminal Investigations Department to investigate the so-called Stephen Lim of the Vancouver Cartel,” Daniel replied, hoping his voice was smooth enough.

The woman tugged on a ponytail on her head, and that was when Dan realised her strawberry blonde hair was tied up into two ponytails, fanning out at the base of her head. Her eyes were a clear blue, adorned by full brows furrowed in concentration. She barely looked like a Criminal Investigations Service officer, but Daniel knew looks could be deceiving. She looked especially childlike, but the bite in her voice said otherwise.

“Daniel. Your ID is at the front desk, I assume?” 

Daniel nodded, “Affirmative.” 

“I read your report the other day. It seems like you’ve done your job, so what are you here for?” her eyes were narrowed into slits, and she took a step closer to Daniel; a dominating gesture, as Daniel recognised.

There was no point trying to pick a fight with her. Daniel didn’t know what her position was in this office, and if she was just some rookie sizing him up, he didn’t want to waste his time.

Regardless, he made his point clear, “Ma’am, I’ve been assigned to expose any criminal activity by the so-called Stephen Lim and discover what his connections to the Vancouver Cartel are. It’s not a simple background check, and I hope you understand that, ma’am.”

The woman smirked, then her lips pulled up into a mischievous smile. She lowered her arms, extending a hand toward Daniel. It was an open position, somewhat vulnerable, and Dan was surprised at the favourable shift in comportment. 

“Confident. I like it,” she said, her voice lower and sly, “The name’s Ann. For Annabelle.” 

Dan blinked before shaking Annabelle’s tiny hand, bony with the lightness of a bird. The petite woman smiled up at him, a cheeky glint in her large almond eyes, and in that moment Daniel saw Hosuh in her, just slightly more chaotic. 

“Th-thanks. How do I address you?” 

“The guys address me Chief here. But Ann’s fine.” 

Chief. This woman was the chief of the CIS. She barely looked the part, but that, he presumed, was just another persona of hers facilitating her job. She was so unassuming, yet he could tell she was keen and capable. Annabelle was known to be of high calibre in the industry, sharp and deadly; the kind of person Daniel wanted to become. It scared him slightly, how different of a person she actually was as compared to his first impression. It came with the job, he supposed.

“An honour, Chief Annabelle,” Daniel said, bowing his head slightly. Upon hearing Ann’s snicker, Dan jerked his head up, meeting Ann’s cheeky smile. 

“Gross. What you doin’?” Ann said, punching Dan’s shoulder — a vaguely casual gesture. “Staring at the key cabinet ain’t getting you a promotion, buddy.” 

“Um, I’m here to look for files concerning the cartel. The missing person cases allegedly brought about by the organisation could be a good starting point,” Daniel said, shifting his body away from the glass cabinet of keys. 

Ann cocked the head, rubbing the back of her neck. “Why though? Aren’t you in charge of the cartel’s son?” 

“Yeah,” Dan nodded, “But I want to do a check and see if there’s any link between the cases and Stephen.” 

She straightened, a smile flashing on her lips. “Thorough,” she said, then began to walk along the middle aisle of the office abruptly, footsteps clicking sharply against the floor. A few of the officers had been watching the conversation unfold, he realised, and they immediately greeted Ann as she passed them by. Ann waved a dismissive hand and turned to address Daniel, “Aren’t you coming? You’re not going to get any luck with the keys, sonny.”

“But don’t I have to look through the hardcopy files and —“ 

“No,” Ann shook her head firmly, a faint smile across her bowed lips, “You won’t find anything of importance there. Those are all hardcopies of reports we receive from other parts of the world long ago. The most recent are in the CIS database. I believe interpol has restricted your database, so I’ll let you access it on mine.” 

Daniel watched her, his mouth slightly agape in surprise. He’s only met her for a while, but she was already trusting him with highly classified information in her personal workspace. Something about that seemed off on its own, but there was no insincerity or pretension in Ann’s eyes. Her stance was open, wide, which should mean she had nothing to hide. 

“Of course, I’ll be watching you, Daniel. Don’t go thinking you have free reign over every single report on the database,” Ann said, turning her back to Daniel, beckoning him to follow her. 

“Yes, Chief.” 

Dan was settled into a sleek black office chair in a small room within the large office. The sectioned-off room was small, having space for one armchair, a rather messy desk, and a tall cabinet with files neatly arranged within. Dan watched as Ann reached over to key in the multiple passwords and access codes into the computer. Her fingers typed expertly, borne from years of experience. 

Ann couldn’t have been that much older than Daniel, if she was at all. She looked exceptionally young with her clear skin and childlike hair. Her cheeks were rosy and eyes sharp and watching, but full of youthful impishness and excitement. Still, there was a certain kind of tiredness to her face; as if all this boundless energy was fuelled by a depleting store of caffeine and late-night stress. Her blue eyes carried a dimension of fatigue, as if she carried an eternity of experience, savoir-faire, and years worth of knowledge cached away within them. She was young, surely, but aged beyond her years too. 

“There. It’s done. This is the VC folder for spanning across the whole CIS, and this one’s where you find the Organised Crime dep files. We followed Interpol protocol to check for all missing person cases spanning from 2000 to 2011 regardless of cause. Here’s all of it. Have fun,” she said, drawing back. Daniel looked, taking the mouse in his hand. 

He accessed the latest reports regarding the missing person cases, with the help of Ann. Opening and closing irrelevant files over and over again, he resorted to scrolling through all the files against the dark blue interface. 

A few reports in particular caught Dan’s eye. They were all missing person cases, as usual, but Dan knew there was something off. The dates of occurrence of 4 of the files were too close together to be considered as isolated cases, and that wasn’t the case for all the other reports.

He opened each document, scanning quickly through them. The first was the case of a Mr Brandon Lim, followed by a Mrs Teresa Lim, née Chan. They were a couple, Dan realised as he read on. Brandon was a Singaporean native, and Teresa had moved from the neighbouring Malaysia in 1988 to marry Brandon. Together they moved to Montreal in 2008 and subsequently had both gone missing mid-2009 in Montreal. Neither of them had history with drug or substance abuse, and if they had, Daniel trusted the law enforcement would have known about it long ago. That was strange, because they had no noticeable connections to VC at all. There would be, logically, no reason for the Lim family to be kidnapped by the cartel, if the cartel had been involved at all.

Daniel’s forehead was beaded with sweat as he read on, barely noticing Annabelle staring at his every move. Something wasn’t adding up. His curiosity urged him on.

He closed the documents and fired up the rest of them systematically. The eldest daughter of the family, Sarah Lim, and the middle child, Stephanie both came up. None of them had any connections at all to the cartel, and their reports all ended at the point of their disappearance. Nothing else could be found, other than the fact they all went missing in the same time frame. Their investigations were halted soon afterward, and there was no indication of the cause of their disappearances.

The files had also listed all their related family members, highlighting those who moved to Montreal together.

It was at this point Daniel realised something. 

Their son was a Stephen Lim. He was the only one not missing in the family.

Daniel sucked in a breath, leaning in closer to the computer screen instinctively. The gears in his mind began turning at a speed even he couldn’t catch. He felt blood rush into his head, and he caught on to the table edge for stability. 

Stephen Lim was a Singaporean, son of Brandon and Teresa. Since the family had no illicit connections to the cartel, Stephen Lim likely would not either. Since the whole family went missing, there was no reason to leave him be. 

Or was there?

Daniel had suspicions. His target also went by Stephen Lim. Doing the math, if Stephen was twelve in 2009, he would be twenty-three this year. That was exactly the same age of the drug lords’ son. His target also claimed to be a Singaporean native, and Brandon and Teresa’s son was definitely Singaporean. Dots were connecting themselves in Dan’s mind, forming a rough idea of what could have happened.

It could be possible that the cartel _was_ involved, after all. The son of the cartel could have taken on the original Stephen’s identity, and dispatched the Lim family. That way he could maintain the falsehood that Stephen Lim was still Stephen Lim, who had just luckily escaped the fate of his family.

Dan paused, and considered this for a moment. If the cartel had sent men to kidnap the Lim family, they would have to dispose of all of them in order to hide the crime. They would have killed everyone in the Lim family, taken all markers of identification of their youngest son Stephen, made his target assume Stephen’s name and identity. The son of the cartel would have to live as the unfortunate son who had lost his family by unknown causes. 

That much seemed true. In his background check, he’d found from social workers and many other records that it was well-known that his target had lost his parents at age 12 to “unknown causes”. That made everything a little shadier.

Of course, this was just a hypothesis, a wild speculation. There were still too many questions. Why would his target have to take on a different identity on such a grand scale, if they could hide their cartel activities well enough? It was a waste of manpower, a waste of time, and a big risk for exposure. There was also not much at this point to prove that Stephen Lim’s identity had been stolen for the cartel’s son. Just a file bearing the same name his target took and the identical backgrounds between the two didn’t prove that the identity had been stolen by the cartel. The whistleblowers’ intel that this man Daniel had been investigating was the cartel’s son was not enough objective proof to show that the identity had been stolen.

Despite the many unknowns, it was a possibility, and Dan didn’t like letting go of it so soon. 

“So what have you got, boy?” Ann’s voice came from close behind. Dan hadn’t noticed her peering over his shoulder while he pondered his options. 

“Stephen Lim. This guy. I think my target took his identity.” 

Ann raised her brow, frowning with disappointment. “That’s it?” 

“No, no, Chief, let me explain,” Daniel gulped, turning in his chair to look the CIS chief in the eye, “This man was kidnapped in 2008, when he was just twelve. That would mean he would be 23 this year, which corresponds to my target’s age. My target’s legal information lists him as a Singaporean immigrant, who moved over when he was twelve, too. My target’s name is also Stephen Lim, and the information shares the same parentage, the same background, which is a little too close to be considered a coincidence. I’ve always had a hunch that Stephen — my target — had stolen somebody else’s identity, because his trace on government databases actually seem very legitimate, and as far as I know, accurate to someone at some point in time. That would mean the person whose identity he’s taken on was young and hadn’t really made a significant mark on the national systems, leaving my target to shape Stephen Lim’s fate in the eyes of law enforcement as he pleased. 

“I’m aware this is just a theory; it’s not very concrete. I’ll need to find out more. Since I can assume that my target is indeed the cartel’s son who goes by Stephen Lim, I can do a background check on this Stephen Lim with info from Singapore to prove that my target’s and his info is identical. Then I just need to prove that Brandon and Teresa were indeed kidnapped by the cartel, or had some connections, which would show that the cartel had motivations to use the family for their own gain and therefore it would be a sound conclusion that they got the drug lords’ son to pose as the Lim family’s son. I would be able to show that my target is liable for identity fraud, and possibly accessory to murder or a compliant with any other crimes. That would be enough to fulfil my task.” 

Annabelle was nodding, listening carefully to Dan’s words. Her expression was impossibly convoluted, visibly searching her own knowledge before there was a flash of understanding behind her blue eyes. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lip.

“You’re a smart cookie, aren’t ya, Daniel,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the bleached white wall. “But you sound like you want something. Might I enquire?” 

Daniel grimaced, sitting up straighter in his seat. She was perceptive, and unabashedly straightforward. “Um, right. If it’s possible, I’d like to ask if you could suggest this to court and somehow get a court subpoena for me to look through phone records and other things to see if there is any sign of coercion. Also, I would like if we could get interpol involved to contact Singapore and reopen investigations to check for any sign of cartel involvement in this case. It is protocol, isn’t it? We know the cartel had carried our kidnappings through 2000 to 2011 and I’m sure Singapore will take this kidnapping very seriously, especially since it could be a drug cartel carrying it out. Singapore’s drug laws are one of the harshest; I’m sure they would have carried out further investigations by now. I would like access to those reports, too.” 

“Demanding, eh?” Ann asked, her voice seemingly carefree and light. Still, there was a hint of challenge to her tone. “I can’t promise you on the court subpoena, because you’re not entitled to the same things as the police are. As your client, however, we might be able to acquire the phone records with our own licensed manpower without you, and either look through them ourselves, or hand them to you with restrictions. Regarding the access to files from Singapore on this case, yes, they’re doing investigations into it. I’ll be sure to share any relevant information with you. But you realise this is very wishy-washy, and not to mention round-about, yes?” 

Clearing his throat, Daniel steadied his voice, “I’m aware. But this is my only lead, and I hope you can understand. Here in Montreal I will not lose track of my target. If this fails, I can start over. I have time and resources at my disposal now, so why not do it?” 

Ann hummed in thought, pushing herself off of the wall. “You can live with the implications of failing a relatively high-profile task, I hope.”

Ouch. 

She laughed it off, a sharp, vaguely menacing smile. Moving across the room, she sat herself down on the arm chair, crossing a leg over the other. A gesture of superiority, it seemed, but yet there was a air of openness.

“Dear Daniel, you’re very motivated. Strangely so. Most investigators wouldn’t go this far. Why’s that?” she continued, studying Daniel closely. Her eyes were focused, judging and analysing, watching Daniel’s every muscle. “Sure, you might be as eager to impress and with pure intentions as your superiors back in Calgary say, but I hope you empathise because years in the CIS have taught me to be wary. So what’s the deal?”

Daniel pushed out his chair, wheeling it slightly closer to her in a non-threatening manner. She remained quiet, eyes still watching, still processing. 

Did he really have to tell her about Joseph? 

He didn’t like thinking about what had happened not too long ago, much less think that the incident was the reason behind his drive. He’d been pushing it away ever since it happened. He never allowed himself to delve too deep into it, lest he was overcome by despair. 

Just last year, when the case of the Vancouver Cartel had first opened up, he’d been in contact with Joseph Catalanello, a well-established undercover agent for the Vancouver Criminal Intelligence Service. They’d studied criminology together in University, where he was fondly known as JoCat for his surname, and also as another rising star in the criminal investigations scene besides himself. They’d been close friends, but had drifted away after Daniel moved back to his hometown in Calgary. 

They’d met each other again a little a year ago, only soon before he’d been assigned to join the Cartel as an undercover agent. In the period of time before Jo severed all contact with him for the sake of his assignment, they’d resumed their friendship and became firm friends once again. Both of them had changed for the better, and Dan realised he could get along more with Jo than anybody else. They’d spent a lot of time together, spilling secrets and confiding in each other, entertaining the other’s jokes and antics. They were inseparable, but it all seemed like a distant memory now.

Daniel greatly respected his wit, his charisma, and his easy-going nature. Jo was a funny guy, a joy to be around. He was also a trustworthy person, no matter how much he was made to lie for his job. He had promised to go back to Calgary after the case was solved and share a beer or two with Daniel, but he supposed that was another one of his job-required lies. 

He never came back. 

Last August he’d received news that the undercover mission had been foiled. He wasn’t involved, but that struck fear in his nonetheless. Jo had been on that mission, and he knew the cartel was merciless to traitors. 

Jo was, in other words, dead. 

He didn’t admit he it bothered him to think about it. He’d been shocked, and he’d buried it in the depths of his mind. He constantly refused to think about it. It tore him apart to see such a good man, a good friend full of life and vitality just gone in a second, never to smile, never to laugh again. He didn’t like how likely this fate was for those in the criminal investigations scene. 

He didn’t want to admit that this was the reason he was so dedicated to this case.

He wanted to avenge Jo, in this tiny way he could have. But he wasn’t proud, and he didn’t want to proclaim this to anyone. He was not brought here to be a martyr, and he knew he was supposed to just do his job with no personal agenda. 

His eyes eventually found Ann’s. Her clear blue eyes had softened, seemingly taking on a darker hue. Her head was cocked, sympathy written all over her face. 

“Hey, if you don’t want to share, don’t,” she said, setting both feet gently on the ground and leaning forward.

Daniel shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s fine. It’s, um, a personal matter, really. My friend. He was a undercover investigator.” 

“Was?” she asked, quietly this time. 

“Yeah. He, um, presumably passed. They haven’t found the body at all. It was, uh, last year. The cartel found out about the mission.” 

“I’m so sorry, Daniel.” 

Silence settled in. Neither knew what to say to the other. Ann didn’t seem like the empathetic type, and it was clear she didn’t know what to do. 

After a few moments, she whispered, “I’m sorry. I really am. I hope that doesn’t interfere with, you know, your work. I admire your strength, but please don’t let that in the way of your, uh, rationality, if I may be blunt.”

Daniel cleared his throat awkwardly. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that Jo’s inconclusive death had hit him hard, and sparked a suppressed flame of fury within him. He knew it was against his better judgement to act on such passions, to be roused into such fervent, unrelenting investigation just because his friend had died at the cartel’s hands, but this was his friend. Murdered without a thought by an organised crime group who thought they owned the world. He would not stand for this. 

The law would not stand for this.

But he would keep Ann’s advice in mind. He could not afford to lose objectivity. “Noted, Chief,” he said, firm with determination.

Ann leant forward in her seat, eyes settling still on Daniel’s. Her confidence seemed renewed, and her voice was unwavering as she spoke, “We’ll try our best to help you to get the court order and subsequently your required intel. It’s not guaranteed, though, so come up with a backup plan in time. Other than that, what are you going to do in the meantime, then?”

“Look for anything else to substantiate my claims, I suppose. I’ve got connections to my target, anyway,” he said, mind wandering back to that morning. He felt bad, but that guilt had worn itself off. He knew it was wrong to use Hosuh that way, but he promised himself it wouldn’t get that far. If all went well, Hosuh would never know. 

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled, and possibly initiate contact.”

“Then be careful, sonny. Contact us if you need any help.” 

Daniel got up immediately from the seat, bowing his head slightly, “Thank you, Chief.” 

Ann got up as well, moving over to the computer to log out and shut it off. “All the best, kid. Organised Crime dep will contact you for a meeting soon.”

She saw him out afterward, and he left the building with a renewed sense of purpose. Walking across the snow-laden ground his head was held high instead, and he knew he was getting somewhere.

He knew Jo’s death wouldn’t be a waste. As naively heroic it sounded, he would avenge him.

He was prepared to do anything to solve his case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> First of all, I want to apologise for taking a whole deadass month to upload. It’s been super crazy; I wanted to upload, like, 2 weeks ago but uncovered plot hole after plot hole. We also had another round of exams for school so that took time away from this too.
> 
> This chapter admittedly isn’t my best, and I found it really convoluted. If this is a problem, I would appreciate if you would let me know how to improve in the comments and I’ll re-edit the chapter. 
> 
> There’s an introduction of two new characters, Ann and Jo. Both serve as driving forces (Ann in the present, Jo from the past) behind Daniel’s passion for this case, and will explain his behaviour in future chapters. I also wanted to have a powerful female character, so I stan Chief Annabelle :) 
> 
> Thank you so much once again for reading Manhunt! Look out for next chapter; it’s gonna be angst time TM!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody!
> 
> Quick warning: panic attacks and a depressive episode. Do not read if this is a trigger. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! ((I also hope you cried!!)) Do expect delay in the subsequent ones because we’re all dying here with exams. Also continue to leave comments because they make me very happy HAHA
> 
> Thank you for supporting my fic!

Hosuh Lee. 

He repeated the name over and over again, softly, tenderly; the fragile sound falling upon trembling lips. The radiator was on in his room, emitting a low mechanical hum that pierced through the silence. The streets were quiet outside but his dark grey curtains were drawn closed, making it almost impossible to tell the time. 

He’d woken from a nightmare, left shivering, half-naked in a pool of cold sweat. Swathed in his thick quilts, he turned on his side, burying his head into a pillow. He hadn’t noticed the stickiness on his face from the tears that he choked out from his bloodshot eyes. His teeth were chattering; hair risen from his goose-pimpled flesh; skin peeling below his broken, bitten nails to reveal rawness underneath. 

It had been the same the entire week. He dreamt the same horrible dreams. He’d seen bodies, two adult bodies and three younger ones, among which was a young boy that looked startlingly like himself. He couldn’t have been older than 12. He remembered the bodies strewn carelessly across the warehouse floor in the outskirts of Canada. He wasn’t meant to see it. In his dream the workers in the warehouse, probably part of the cartel, had shooed him out frantically, their silhouettes becoming bigger and bigger as his heart raced and as his stomach turned and bile threatened to rise up. He could only run away, mind a blank slate, dry-heaving and retching. He couldn’t remember details, but this was all he could dream about ever since he was 12.

In the same dream there were recurring images of members of his cartel, hovering over him, large black shadows following him, watching him, tagging him. He would dream of the Vancouver Criminal Intelligence fiasco they’d had a year ago, the one were three undercover agents — he couldn’t remember their names. Was one of them called Jo? It didn’t matter. They had discovered more than they would have liked, especially in regards to Stephen himself. They’d discovered his parents’ plans for him. They knew where to find Stephen, and how to incriminate him. 

Like a coward, he’d told the men of the cartel, plainly, simply, heartlessly, “Kill them.” 

And they did. 

It still haunted him to this day. He never wanted to stoop so low. He never liked the killing, the exploitation, the cruelty. But like parents, like child. In just a single decision, he was no different from his drug lord parents. He never wanted this life. He was horrified at what extents he was willing to go to to protect his identity and endorse the actions of his family.

But a new dream had cropped up in the recesses of his unconscious mind. The same memories would flash through his mind whenever he left for work and drove past his damn flower shop — his bright smile, his soft grey eyes, his feathery silver hair, the feeling of his fingers linked behind his neck, the hot sweet liqueured breath against his face. But he was always out of reach, always unattainable. 

But with him he was happy. It took his worries away, and made him dream of different reality where he could hold him close and know he was his every day. In another world, he knew, they would be perfect for each other. But that was the grief of the matter, he supposed. They could never really be, because Hosuh didn’t deserve to be dragged into a criminal’s life.

Yet without him around, Stephen was engaging in the same unhealthy, destructive behaviour for the entirety of the past week. His apartment was a wreck, dirty laundry strewn over the floors, papers and notes cluttered on his desk. Dirty dishes were left unwashed in the sink, and dust collected in the corners of his home.

Hosuh was a drug.

And a week of withdrawal did not treat Stephen kindly. 

He remembered the time he visited Hosuh’s apartment about two weeks ago, on Sunday morning. They’d been meaning to head out for lunch together, just like new friends did, and Hosuh’s friend Daniel had come along coincidentally. His panic had done nothing to help the situation, and Daniel was out the door almost as soon as he came, leaving his purple balloons in a corner of the home. Hosuh had taken the cups to the kitchen for a quick rinse, his eyes bright and happy, shimmering in the morning sun. His feet, he noticed, were bedecked with bright yellow socks with an egg cartoon on them. He had slipped them into sneakers, stuffing his hands into his pockets and cocked his head, a blinding smile spreading across his lips. 

After lunch, Hosuh had asked him to stay; an unexpected request. It was hard to resist the way he’d tucked his hair behind his left ear, a hand in his pocket, all while staring at the ground. Back at the apartment lounging in Hosuh’s room, Stephen asked about Daniel. He recalled how the light went out in Hosuh’s eyes, a sad, tired smile pulling at his lips. Hosuh had explained what Daniel had done for him in the past, how he helped him through his difficult time.

Before he had finished, Hosuh’s face was wet with tears, breath laboured, voice cracking, and eyes shining with a beautiful sorrow in the daylight. 

Stephen had dived out of the chair he’d been seated in so fast that he sent it spinning across the room. Seating himself firmly on the bed next to Hosuh, he took him lightly by the shoulders, rubbing them comfortingly. He hadn’t been thinking at all. Just like that, all inhibitions had been lifted, and he had no other care but to comfort Hosuh. He’d forgotten his self-imposed restrictions. 

Surprisingly Hosuh had leant immediately into his touch, turning his body such that his face was buried into Stephen’s chest. His tiny body rocked with sobs, shoulders jerking whenever he struggled for breath or hiccupped suddenly. His hands grasped at his shirt, pulling hard and balling up the cotton fabric within his shaking fists. Something told Stephen he’d never cried like this before. 

Stephen’s heart raced, as unpredictable and unsteady as Hosuh’s gasps for air. He never wanted Hosuh to despair in this way ever again. Hosuh was the kind of person who had worked so hard to be happy, and he deserved that much. He didn’t deserve the life he’d had, and Stephen could not make it any more difficult for him.

It was an unsuspecting — carefree, foolish — kind of love, something that went right under Stephen’s nose. He fell into it uncontrollably, but yet not recklessly. He knew he wanted to do so much for Hosuh even before he admitted to himself he even liked him. 

He also knew, however, that he could not. 

And that meant Stephen was not going to allow himself to get too close. Trouble always followed him. His status as the son of wanted drug lords meant he _was_ trouble. He’d schemed, he’d lied, he’d mercilessly ordered killings. Hell, he wasn’t even Stephen Lim. For Hosuh to get involved, he would dally too much with unknown danger, and Stephen would be at risk of exposure too. Nothing good would come out of anything he tried to instigate with Hosuh. 

That was a statement he’d made to himself weeks ago, however. Then again, there was the time he brought Hosuh to the pub with Jay just last week. He hadn’t meant to do that, really, but he’d succumbed to temptation after Jay suggested it. Just as he’d let himself hold on to Hosuh’s hips and seat him on his leg, he was only thoroughly enraptured by Hosuh’s quiet beauty, like he’d been over and over again. He’d only wanted to admire that shy smile, those kind grey eyes, that gentle disposition up close one last time. It was meant to be goodbye, but he hadn’t expected that goodbyes were so difficult to give. 

His heart twisted painfully in his chest as he shifted his body violently on the bed, a sheen of cold sweat still evident across his forehead. He hadn’t thought being this far in would be possible. He had gone into Hosuh’s shop three Fridays ago for curiosity’s sake, to check out the cute boy that would be his client, but he never expected himself to become so addicted. He supposed he took it for granted; he had had too many short-lived, impatient, frenzied one-night-stands and flings to count. He thought he could always move on. 

But Hosuh was different. Stephen wanted _him_. But Stephen also wanted him to be happy, more than anything he could have desired for himself. He wanted him to live his life with someone better, someone who could do more for him. He wanted someone to love him better, and appreciate who he was; kind, beautiful, strong, powerful, so very trusting. It wasn’t his place to abuse that trust. It was better that Hosuh never knew who Stephen was and was left disappointed by a sudden departure, than to let him be horrified at the number of lies he’d told. 

_One last time_ , he told himself once his breath had steadied and his heart was calmer. He would see him one last time; his beautiful, innocent, resilient flower shop boy, and leave him, untainted. 

His silver rose deserved a proper goodbye.

A week had passed. He’d made a conscious effort to go to work more the last week, in a foolish hope that Hosuh would spot him leaving his house and contact him first. It was cowardice, he knew. Jay had been surprised to see him, even as he chided him for skipping work so much. Jay was still concerned, after all. Stephen didn’t tell him what was going on, so he was left to assume Stephen was just a little out of it. Jay didn’t press much. 

It was a chilly morning as he left his apartment that Saturday morning. It was impossible for him to sleep that night; he’d been tossing and turning on his bed, finally resigning himself to sitting on his lounge chair, staring out the window. He hadn’t noticed the passing of time until he saw a figure walking briskly towards the store under the opposite building, long grey coat flowing behind his surreal figure against the pale light of the rising sun in winter. The lights on the shop were flipped on, casting a luminous glow on the rows of flowers and leaves in pots atop display tables.

He knew he had to talk to him. Hosuh deserved that much. Then he would leave, and pretend everything was okay. Pretend that his heart wouldn’t ache for him the remainder of his life, pretend that his mind wouldn’t acclimatise to the meaning of regret. 

Standing in front of the same glass door he showed up at in the beginning of January, he realised he had no clue what to say. He’d come here on the whim of seeing Hosuh again more than to tie up loose ends; an urge barely rationalised. He wanted so very much to turn around, leave, act as if he was never here, run, hide. Just like he’d always been.

He took a breath and pushed the door open, against all of his instincts screaming at him. His vision was already beginning to drift in and out of focus, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt woozy, unsteady. Somewhere at the back of his head he knew this wasn’t a good time to see Hosuh. 

But he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, against better judgement. 

He stepped inside, wincing at the tinkling of the bell above the doorframe that had only become apparent to him now. It was deafeningly loud, for some reason. The shop was warm, warmer than he remembered it to be. Trying his best to push the sound away, Stephen looked around the small room. 

As if on command, the small figure he was looking for burst out of the back room, a bright smile on his face. Stephen’s heart stopped for a moment, blinded by the genuineness in his smile, as if he’d caught him off-guard, in the midst of a day-to-day routine. Detached from his reality. 

“Mrs Brown! So sorry, I’ve got your bouquet — ” Hosuh’s stopped the moment they made eye contact.

Silence fell upon the pair. No one moved, no one said a word. Hosuh’s eyes were wide with shock, his face frozen in surprise. 

Slowly, relief began to fill his eyes, and he lowered the bouquet he had been holding on to shakily. A small, uncertain smile ghosted over his lips. 

“Stephen.” 

That single word overflowed with emotion. There was guilt in it, and there was surprise, there was happiness, and it was impossible for Stephen to grasp all of them. Stephen barely knew what emotions were. This pure rawness was so foreign, so strange, so scary, he realised. He didn’t know what to do with these emotions that ran so high. 

He stared, unable to form words. Hosuh placed the bouquet down on the countertop, taking a tentative step toward him. He could feel his heart rate doubling, breaths becoming short and uncontrolled and the little beads of sweat upon his skin suddenly turned cold. This was fear, anxiety, and he knew it. It would be unhealthy to stay here, but he had to.

“Stephen, I... I was about to go talk to you this week. Thanks for coming,” Hosuh began, his voice shaking. Perhaps he was nervous, perhaps he was overwhelmed, Stephen had no one word for Hosuh’s outpouring of emotions. 

Stephen shook his head in what he hoped Hosuh would interpret as a dismissive gesture. His muscles were stiff, joints tense. 

“Are you alright, Stephen? I don’t know, but ever since last Friday...” Hosuh took a glance at Stephen, worry shrouding his face. He wrung his hands together, chewing on his bottom lip, “We haven’t spoken in... a pretty long while, Stephen. This isn’t — are you okay?” 

How could Hosuh find it in his heart to ask him if he was alright? He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact it was quite the contrary; he’d made Stephen feel so happy, even before he knew he could feel anything at all. Stephen was the one playing him around his finger, promising him things that could never be, sticking around too much, leading him on... 

“Hey, Stephen? I really don’t know what’s going on... Am I overreacting? I... I don’t know how to say this at all. I’ve got so much on my mind, and...” 

How could Stephen do this to him? Hosuh really believed Stephen was all that he let on. But he wasn’t the man Hosuh thought he knew; he wasn’t Stephen Lim. Stephen Lim was dead, for God’s sake, dead by his family’s own doing. So many other people were dead by his own wishes, even; he was a murderer, dear lord, somebody who didn’t feel, somebody who didn’t care, somebody with no qualms about exploiting, killing, manipulating — there was no way Hosuh could trust someone like that. 

His heart clenched, and he opened his mouth to speak, to say something — anything — to relieve the situation, but all that came out was a pathetic squeak. His eyes tracked Hosuh as he stepped forward. 

Oh no. With the way his eyes burned with tears and how his brain was so frazzled and confused, this could only end badly. 

“Stephen, hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad. Really. Please don’t feel guilty, I’m already asking a lot of you. I mean, rationally, it’s perfectly normal to not be in contact with each other for a week, right? I’m sorry, I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t be so demanding —“ he cut himself off with a choked sob, burying his face in his hands. The sleeve of his jumper was too long, and flapped over his fingers. 

He was absolutely endearing, even like that. 

With a shaky breath Stephen realised he had never wanted to say goodbye in the first place. 

How could he? He should have known better. He never stood a chance. 

Perhaps this had begun as a fling, a way to relieve some of his inconvenient human needs. But this man had warmed his icy heart, made him cry, made him laugh, made him want. He’d softened him. Stephen never thought he would fall for someone — especially not a small, vulnerable, trusting delicate piece of _bread_ like Hosuh — and it terrified him. He’d begun to feel a sense of responsibility, and worst of all, a stubborn attachment. He wanted Hosuh to feel safe, to be happy, and he’d never wanted that much for anyone else. He never really cared. But Hosuh deserved that much. Yet Stephen knew he could never deliver. 

He gulped, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. His throat itched with the dryness of nervousness. Wetting his parched lips, he evened his breath to no avail.

“I-I’m sorry, Hosuh.”

Alarm flashed through Hosuh’s eyes and he waved his arms wildly in a vaguely dismissive gesture. “No, no! I’m not angry at all; you didn’t do anything wrong!” 

“I was horrible. I mean, after we, uh...” Stephen’s words ran dry. 

A faint blush peppered across Hosuh’s pale cheeks. It was adorable. Stephen knew he would never get enough of this boy. But he couldn’t afford to linger.

“What happened, Stephen?” came Hosuh’s voice, quiet and unsure. Stephen knew exactly what he meant. 

“I — Look, Hosuh. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have, um, I shouldn’t have ghosted you like that.” 

He heard feet shuffling on the ground, and it was Hosuh moving closer to him. Out of instinct, or an ingrained defence mechanism, Stephen jerked backward, eyeing Hosuh cautiously. He immediately regretted it when he saw the hurt that flashed across his gray eyes. Swaying backward a little, Hosuh visibly took in a shaky, deep breath. 

“You... you didn’t really ghost me, per se. It’s not like we were, you know, a thing,” he said, offering a tiny smile. Was it of humour, or was it of pain? Stephen couldn’t tell. Stephen was never able to tell. 

Stephen did not laugh.

The snow was picking up outside, he realised. It was white, obtrusive, blinding. He barely heard Hosuh continuing to speak. 

“There’s clearly something bothering you, though.” 

Unthinking, he managed to croak out an apology. “I just... I was scared, I guess.” At least that was true. 

Hosuh’s brows knitted together, a pained frown pulling at his chapped lips. “Scared of?” 

Oh God, what could he say? Hosuh couldn’t know anything, that was the whole point — 

“Stephen, you’re, like, really distressed, aren’t you? It’s okay, it’s just me,” Hosuh peered up at him with those large gray eyes. His silver hair had fallen out of the tight hair tie in the back, and fell around his face. 

He was beautiful, but he was an angel Stephen didn’t deserve.

Hosuh moved away from their position in the room towards the plants. His movements were stiff, unnatural, but he made an effort to make it look normal. He crouched in front of a rack near the back, and suddenly Stephen couldn’t see him anymore. His voice, slightly steadier, and lower, drifted out from between the displays of the shop. 

“Here. Now you can’t see me, can you? Maybe this’ll help you calm down. I don’t know, I read somewhere that a lot of eye contact makes people anxious but I don’t want you to be nervous.” 

He was taken aback by Hosuh’s innocent words. He showed his care in such odd, but such befitting ways. It was then, in an almost surreal moment, the realisation slapped Stephen like a brick. 

He loved this man. So, so much. 

But he deserved better.

“Maybe I’ll, uh, I’ll talk first, then,” Hosuh said, and Stephen could hear the rustling of fabric against the floor and a soft thud. He must have seated himself on the black tile.

“It’s been a long week, I guess. I was really worried about you, too. But it’s okay. And, um, I don’t know if it’s the right time to say this, but I want to tell you something. I’ve... figured something out.”

Stephen swallowed, taking a hesitant step towards Hosuh’s voice. He still wasn’t visible, and Stephen urged his body to relax. Being so strung up wouldn’t do him any good now.

“I thought you might want to know this, Stephen,” he took a sharp inhale of breath, “I’m, uh, pretty gay.” 

It was as if all thought function halted in his mind. 

Only a single question came out of his mouth, “How did you...?” 

Hosuh let out a sheepish chuckle. The ruffling of clothing came again. “It was a lot easier to tell Dan this, but I suppose it’s because it’s _you_ , Stephen.” 

Even in this state, Stephen knew the meaning those words carried. This was not the time to discover this at all. Just when he was ready to say goodbye, he had to tell him he liked him. Now how could he leave? His heart tore at its seams in conflict.

The boy on the floor was clearly disappointed by his silence. “It’s been killing me, Stephen. Seeing you walk in here, spending hours on end helping me with the flowers, talking to me, holding me while I cried like a baby, drinking with me, _touching_ me like you did that night, god damn it, it’s just impossible for me not to feel this way. I hate that I never knew, but Stephen, hear me out, you don’t have to feel the same way, and you probably don’t. I mean, you’re a successful guy, and you’ve probably got someone, but you gave me some hope that you liked me too. I‘m just some plain old flower shop boy without even a degree, and I doubt you would feel the same for someone like me. But that’s okay. I’m sorry for putting you in a terrible position like this. You probably feel even more anxious now.” 

Stephen thought he was going to die. 

His stomach lurched, and he felt bile come up his throat. With his heart thumping, jaw clenching, he could feel the cold sweat on his skin. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He couldn’t let Hosuh waste himself on him like this. Stephen would have been happy to hear that, in any other situation; God, he would have been grinning and hugging his tiny precious Hosuh and laughing, he would have been telling him _yes, yes, I want to be with you too_ , but no, he was a murderer, a sinner, the inevitable unwilling heir of a drug cartel — 

“Stephen? Stephen. Are you okay?” Hosuh was getting up — why? — and moving over to him. Everything was a blur, his heart was pumping so fast, his brain a mess, the only thing he could hear was Hosuh’s sweet voiced laced with an urgency that should never have been there, and the thumping in his ears, black seeping in from the edges of his vision, hot blood pulsing behind his eyes — 

And were those tears? 

He sucked in a breath, trying so desperately to calm himself down, but all that resulted in were choked coughs and strangled cry. He struggled to breathe, and with a body that shook with sobs, how could he? 

He had to get out of this place. 

So he ran. Out the door, legs pumping on the sidewalk concrete before he could even process it. 

He barely heard the sharp cry of his name from the shop. 

 

More restless nights ensued. Day after day, week after week. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last spoken to Hosuh. 

There was anger, definitely. He was living his days hating how he had been born into his family, how he would be forced to take over the cartel when their parents met their demise. He hated how the cartel tried to contact him over and over and over even after he moved to Montreal — in an attempt of escape, no less — no matter how little he wanted to be a part of it. He hated the number of times he’d ordered to kill, how many times he’d committed fraud; why couldn’t he just be a simple guy who could love the one he loved? 

The nightmares were worse than ever. 

His house was a mess. Too tired to clean, too drained to take care of himself. Dishes piled up in the sink again, and grime built up in his toilets. He’d been wearing the same clothes for days in a row, and hadn’t washed his hair for weeks. He knew he was pale with a ghostly yellowish tint, weak with his cheekbones sunken in. 

He hadn’t gone to work for days on end. 

He was so tired. There was no word for it other than depression. He had no motivation, no fucking energy to anything. He’d been a coward, a slug. He hadn’t picked up the dozens of calls Hosuh made to him, and he hadn’t answered the hundreds of messages both him and Jay left him. He was supposed to say goodbye, not keep him begging on the line. 

Every time a flash of silver hair flew past on the sidewalk out his window, Stephen could only break down. 

Hosuh deserved so much better than a coward, a criminal, a useless doll held at the mercy of his fate. 

He didn’t bother getting up to dry his tears. He was used to it by now. His bedsheets hung off the bed and draped across the ground, barely covering his body. There was nothing really in his heart that told him to care. He was empty, his soul torn away at by self-loathing and the things he always wanted to do but never could. 

When his phone rang, he barely flinched. He’d been getting calls every day, but never bothered to turn off his notifications. They eventually petered out. Probably because his friends and Hosuh were giving up on him. 

Which was what he deserved.

But this ringtone was obnoxious. It was a song, Wake Me Up, but sung in Goofy’s accent. If his foggy mind could remember it right, Jay had chosen this as his ringtone on Stephen’s phone after laughing at it for 15 minutes straight. 

Stephen inched closer to his phone on the bed, face still wet from tears, skin still sticky and grimy from days of neglect. He gently picked up the vibrating, noisy slip of metal with trembling hands. Jay never called. He figured it would be important, if he did. He supposed he had to pick up, even if his heart dropped upon the realisation. He couldn’t go this long without ignoring people, anyway. 

So he lay back down on his back, answering the call and holding the phone to his ear.

“Hello? Stephen?” came an urgent, somewhat irritated voice that Stephen knew well. 

“Hi, Jay,” Stephen replied, not really feeling the mood to apologise for his numerous absences from work. Jay was probably calling him regarding that. After all, he _was_ his direct superior. 

He was met with silence. Neither of them said a word as seconds passed. Stephen had to resist the urge to hang up. 

Then came a hiss from the other end of the line, “I’m coming over.” 

Stephen’s pulse quickened. He didn’t want Jay seeing him in this state at all. “Why?” 

“Because there’s something very obviously up. You — I know how you are sometimes and it’s horrible. Go take a bloody shower.”

“No.” 

“No to what? Me going over? Tough luck, buddy, I’m already out the door.” 

“No — what? No! Don’t come over.” 

“I will, Stephen. And you will be cooperative and let me. Now go take a shower, you filthy sack of balls. Or I’ll make you.” 

Somehow Stephen knew this wasn’t an empty threat. Jay’s clear persistence somehow pierced through the muddle of his mind. Maybe it was a survival instinct, he thought bitterly to himself. 

“Please don’t come over, Jay.” 

“I have to. I’m not going to argue with you as I drive because I don’t want to crash, so you shut up. Do you know how many days of work you’ve missed? I’m surprised the even-higher-ups haven’t fired you yet, seeing since we’re literally working on multiple clients right now. Your lover boy Lee isn’t the only one on our minds, you know, though that might be the case for you.” Stephen heard the rumble of an ignition starting. Jay really wasn’t joking. 

“How many?” he asked, a little half-heartedly. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know. 

“Your absences started from the 25th of January. It’s 23 February today. Your last known work attendances are just none last week, one the week before that, and eight to nine days during the Chinese New Year period. I don’t know the actual dates, not right now, but this clearly ain’t good. Give me 20 minutes; I’ll be there.” 

“Jay —” 

“Nuh-uh, don’t argue with me, little boy. Go take your shower and wash your hair and put on some clean bloody clothes because I’m very sure you haven’t done any of these things for the past month.” 

As much as Stephen wanted to argue, he had even less energy to reason with him. Pulling himself up off he bed, he fiddled with the waistband of his track pants while listening to Jay rant. 

“I’ve told you so many times, you can always call me up if you’re struggling; I don’t think it’s ever been this bad and as your boss and your friend I am entitled to taking care of you and just you wait I’ll be there and I’ll slap —” 

For the first time, Stephen let out a dry chuckle, “Aunty.” 

“You — Aunty? Well, that’s it. I’m stepping on the gas and I’m coming to _get you_ — but not before you take a shower and clean up your house with me.” 

Vaguely threatening, but it was enough to get Stephen into the bathroom. 

Jay showed up pretty soon, considering how far away he lived from Stephen. He’d been standing outside his door as Stephen had just finished his shower. Hair damp, days worth of grime finally cleaned off, he began to feel a little lighter. He’d managed to dig out a clean pair of slacks and a relatively fresh shirt. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He let Jay in, and bit back a bitter laugh as Jay took in the horrid sight of his apartment. 

“Dude, you’re seriously messed up,” was his only comment. 

Jay had searched Stephen’s cupboards for rags and cleaning agents, and began to delegate work like the good Creative Director he was. A part of Stephen hated how he was so useless compared to Jay, who had literally all his shit together. He was organised, confident, unperturbed by life, and most of all, in charge of who he was and what he could be. He could not do that, however. But why couldn’t he —?

“Yo, Stephen, snap out of it. You look like you’re going to cry again,” Jay said, pausing his work stacking the books and papers on his dining table. Stephen finally noticed the cold water dripping down from the wet rag, running down the length of his forearm. He’d let the soap slide down his windows, forming a soppy puddle on the floor. 

“You know what? We need to get you out the house. Have you been eating?” Jay asked, glancing at him before returning to his pile of books. 

Clutching the rag tighter, Stephen replied, “No. Not, uh, not really.” 

“Oh?” Jay raised an eyebrow and pushed the neatly stacked pile away, leaning down the grab a rag in a bucket by his feet. He wrung the cloth out rather forcefully. “Then let’s go grab some food at a cafe or something after this. I’ll treat you.” 

“N-no, don’t, it’s alright — ”

“Indeed it is alright for me to treat you, Stephen. Especially now when you’re a wreck. Finish cleaning the windows and do your laundry and I’ll take care of the dusting and mopping and I’ll change your sheets. Now go. Don’t argue.” 

Stephen could not argue. 

They’d finished their chores soon enough. The sun was sinking in between buildings out the window, casting lovely tinted shadows on the streets below. It was sort of pretty, Stephen supposed. 

They’d made their way in Jay’s car to a cafe near downtown. Jay had filled up the silence with usual chatter, and if Stephen were to tell the truth, he was feeling slightly better. His head was clearer, his heart lighter, although he wasn’t exactly happy. 

He never really was, after all. 

They’d sat themselves down right in front of the window through which the same light of golden hour flashed. Passersby walked on in the streets and cars rolled by. It was oddly calming, he thought, that everybody led their own lives in simple coexistence with each other, nobody knowing the intimate lives and stories of those not them. 

He supposed quite some time had passed as he stared out the window. His coffee was mostly untouched, but the food Jay bought were gone a long while ago. 

Then he heard Jay speak, a sound carrying weight and meaning heavy as lead. 

“Stephen. Look at me.” 

Stephen turned his head, reluctantly making eye contact with the blond in front of him. The fingers around his steaming cup of coffee tightened, and Stephen felt his jaw flex instinctively. Something told him that Jay had been meaning to say this for a while. 

He hated the emptiness in Jay’s appraising gaze. 

“I think, Stephen, I’ve got to tell you this. Hosuh called me. A week ago,” Jay begun, his arms folded atop the table, gaze unwavering. His eyes were cold, but Stephen’s face was burning with shame. Cars moved seemingly slowly outside the cafe, and the noise from the baristas making drinks and other customers chatting were drowned out in Stephen’s ears. 

Upon hearing silence, Jay continued, “Don’t worry, he wasn’t angry. Although I can’t fathom how. He only told me he was worried, and that there’s something you’re not telling him. Simply said, you’ve got something to hide. Even I’ve always known that. But as your superior, your coworker, your friend, I have no business in that. I didn’t pry,” Jay said, tone detached. He then made a gesture across the table, “You’re free to dispute that.” 

Stephen shook his head, breaking eye contact and staring into his coffee again. He thumbed the rim of the white cup, and memories flashed through his mind; him running his fingers across Hosuh’s cheek, in his hair, the softness in Hosuh’s eyes every time he smiled, the hopelessness in his wretched sobs, Hosuh’s bright laughter —

Stephen gulped forcefully, pushing down the lump in his throat. He forced himself to ignore the prickling in his eyes that had become all too familiar. 

Jay took a breath, pulling himself up, folding his arms against the table again. He began, not as collected as before, “Then I’ll tell you this. I don’t care what you’re hiding from me, because our relationship doesn’t extend past a mutual symbiotic one where I somehow find it in my heart to take care of you. You know what kind of person I am; as long as your secrets don’t negatively affect me, I can’t really be bothered. Yet I know you’re not the kind of person to spend so much time hiding something for no reason. You must have a valid, important rationale behind keeping this much hidden.

“But Stephen, look. Your relationship with Hosuh is different from the one with me. Hosuh loves you, and even if he hasn’t said that word to your face, don’t you dare argue about this with me. He cares so much for you, he’s opened up to you so quickly, he wants you to be happy. He trusts you. You must be blind if you can’t see that. And that’s what love is, Stephen. You can hide whatever you want from me. You can cease all contact with me for a month and I wouldn’t care. You could quit your job and leave Montreal and that wouldn’t affect me much. But not Hosuh. He’s told you everything about him, sobbed in your arms, laughed with you, shared moments of bliss, and despair, and sheer... vulnerability with you. He’s shown you he loved you. With a heart stripped bare to the tenderest parts of his emotions, defenceless, unguarded, he loves you. 

“The least you could do is give him an explanation. You can’t leave him alone and lose your shit at home for a month. You can’t ignore all his calls and texts and knocks at your door to hate yourself. You can’t hide this much from him. You can’t lead him on like this. Because this is Hosuh; this is someone who’s so happy to be with you and who genuinely wants you to be happy. This is someone who would go through the same horrid life he had had, over and over again, just to meet you. 

“So, Stephen. At this rate, I’m afraid Hosuh deserves better. If you can’t even tell him what you are truly, who you are, or whatever it is you’re hiding, I’m afraid that’s not love.” 

Jay leaned across the table, closing the space between him and Stephen. Their heads were close together. Barely a slit of the golden sunlight streamed in from the windows of the cafe, separating Stephen’s distraught face and teary, desperate eyes from Jay’s hardened, accusatory glare. 

“If you truly love him, let him go, but first send him off.” 

It was at this point Stephen felt his defences shatter, and his soul spilled out in the form of tears flowing freely down his face, glinting with the single ray of sunlight.


	8. Chapter 8

Coming to work in the mornings didn’t feel the same anymore.

Not when flipping on the light switch was the start to yet another empty day. 

Not when he found no songs to hum to when caring for his plants.

Not when he had nothing to look forward to each day.

There was nobody to talk to. Dan was busy; apparently he’d found a new breakthrough in his case and was working tirelessly on it. He was making good progress. Hosuh’s life paled in comparison to the advancements Dan’s career granted him. And as for Stephen...

It’d been a month since they last spoke. 

A metallic clatter sounded on the floor, jolting him to his senses. Hosuh didn’t even realise he’d dropped his shears. Bending to pick them up, he breathed deeply and resumed work on the rose bush. 

He shouldn’t have pushed him like that. A part of him felt guilty, or responsible for Stephen’s panic attack that day. Stephen was clearly not doing okay before that, and there clearly had been no reason to push those stupid, stupid words out his mouth — 

He felt a sudden, sharp twinge of pain. Hissing a curse under his breath, he clutched his wrist gingerly and inspected the injury on his finger. Crimson blood began to pool on his pale skin from the prick by a rose thorn. 

He stood up carefully, setting the shears on the counter and heading to the back room to take care of it. 

How befitting it was to be cut by a rose’s thorn, he laughed mirthlessly. It all seemed like some sort of crappy movie script, with cheesy lines like “love hurts” and all. 

Did he love Stephen? 

What a childish notion, he thought. Only children deep in puppy love asked such questions. 

He scoffed quietly at himself. He only knew he felt this way because Stephen made him happy. He enjoyed Stephen’s presence because he made him feel special, and made him feel wanted. But if that was all it was, why would Hosuh be so concerned about him? Why did he call him over and over the past month? Why did he leave texts after texts? Why did he call Jay up out of desperation and then cry after hearing what was going on with Stephen?

Why did he care so much? 

He huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of his face. There was a dull throb of pain in his finger as he carefully rinsed it in the back room and patted it dry, wrapping a plaster over it. 

A single thought had plagued him throughout the month. What if Stephen never really cared? Hosuh wasn’t anybody that important, anyway. He was still certain Stephen could have anyone he wanted; he had the charisma, the money, the looks. Stephen could have been simply fooling around with him, wasting time, looking for a source of relaxation. Hosuh was probably only a short winter fling to him, because he was sure that was a thing that existed for Stephen. 

This would have saddened him a month back. But right now he was, for the lack of a better word, pissed.

And he thought being ghosted for a week was bad.

He forced himself to tear his mind away. He’d spent enough days crying and being mad. Locks of silver hair had been collecting in his drain after every shower, and dark circles had begun to grow around his usually bright grey eyes. This wasn’t really good for him, and he knew he had to move on. 

It was much more difficult than he thought it would be. He attempted to work around the shop, but ended up tripping over table legs and dropping tools in the midst of how distracted he was. 

He eventually lost track of time. He’d forgone lunch, because he wasn’t feeling hungry. The sky was a beautiful blue, dark enough to indicate the ending of the day, yet bright to show it was still hours from true sunset. Spring had come in the beginning of March, and although his flowers were in the beginnings of a full bloom and his plants flourished, his heart could not say the same. He had wanted to go to that St. Patrick’s Day festival in the middle of the month, and he had been hoping Stephen would go with him, but that was before everything went awry. It would have been so sweet. 

He sprawled on his counter, seething bitterly. He wished things would have gone better. How nice it would be if Stephen had had the same fluttering in his stomach or the same rush of giddiness whenever he spoke to him.

Wishful thinking.

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there for, idling behind the counter. He surely didn’t expect a customer at 8.30 in the evening, but he still jumped to his feet when the bell on the door frame rang to announce someone’s entrance. 

He wondered how many times he’d seen this exact scene. The one where the same tall, lanky man he’d been associating with for the past three months stood in the doorway. His dark purple curls hung lower than Hosuh remembered, draping past his forehead and into his eyes. It was longer, definitely, and his natural brown roots were beginning to show over the purple highlights in his hair. His shoulders hung low, posture tucked in and shy. The dark purple blazer he wore over a black dress shirt didn’t make him look grander when it should have. It was a very different get-up. Did Stephen have an important meeting today, he wondered?

Again, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing such things. He shouldn’t have bothered. Yet he couldn’t deny the surge of concern, the worry that filled his chest. It was as if all his pent-up anger had dissipated in a flash. 

And _that_ pissed him off. Was the mere sight of the guy he’d been crushing on for the past few months enough for him to forget how he’d wronged him? Hosuh was fickle. He was far too naive, far too simple-minded, far too hopeful and gullible and forgiving and he _hated_ it —

“Hosuh,” came Stephen’s voice, low and quiet. And again Hosuh felt the irrational concern, the protective reflex. 

So that’s why Stephen thought he could play him like that. 

Hosuh gritted his teeth on instinct, feeling his hands clench into fists. 

“What?” he spat, not bothering to hide his anger. It was immature, he knew, and he was supposed to mediate the situation like the kind and gentle person he’d been brought up to be. 

But screw niceties. 

Stephen’s dark eyes met his again, and this time Hosuh refused to let them smoulder his fury. It was rare that he got angry, and when he did, he would make it as threatening as possible.

Just who did Stephen think he was, toying Hosuh around those slender, elegant fingers?

“I... I get that you’re mad, Hosuh, and you have every right to be. I —” It took a moment to register that Stephen was speaking to him. 

Hosuh leant against the counter, crossing his arms in defiance, “Oh, come, on, cut the crap. What is it?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and he regarded Stephen with cold grey eyes. Stephen flinched, immediately worrying his bottom lip. Even in that grand royal purple blazer that Hosuh would have swooned at in any other circumstance, he looked so small. So... pitiable, he realised with cold indifference. 

A sharp inhale came from the man in front of him. His head bowed, he refused to make eye contact. “I’m sorry, Hosuh. I really am. I want to... apologise —”

“Get it over with,” Hosuh snapped, his glare burning with a rage he’d never felt before. How dare he act so gentlemanly and pleasant now, after he’d played him like a fiddle. 

“I’m leaving Montreal.” 

Hosuh’s eyes widened quickly, lips falling apart in shock. Leaving Montreal? That was drastic. First Stephen had refused to speak to him for a week, then a month, and now he had specially taken out oh-so-precious time from his _busy_ schedule to _cordially inform_ Hosuh that he was leaving the city altogether. 

What, was Hosuh some sort of plague he had to avoid? 

It made his blood boil.

“Oh, I get it, you’re rich and privileged, so you can go ahead and fly around and settle down in some stupid other city and meet somebody better than me, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone richer and someone with at least a single _fucking_ degree who doesn’t work in a flower shop and who isn’t a college drop-out who doesn’t have parents in Korea who can barely afford to live and who isn’t this stupid to trust you so easily and won’t waste time caring about you at all because you’ll care about them too and I —”

He was surprised at how easily he choked up; his chest squeezing so tight till he could barely speak and hot, frustrated tears welling in his eyes. Sucking in a breath of air that suddenly felt cold, he turned his head forcefully away, refusing to let Stephen see him fight back tears. He’d already seen him cry once, back when he still bothered to pretend he cared. 

It was his voice, however, that shorted his thoughts. The same sweet, low, gentle voice he’d always had, just heavier, and so, so undeniably sad. 

“Please, don’t cry.” 

Hosuh gripped the counter tighter, not moving an inch. Emotions swirled in his aching chest. Now because of how vulnerable he looked — easy prey, all the time — Stephen could act as if he was the bigger person, the level-headed one, the superior one. He gritted his teeth again, but it was becoming more of a struggle to keep his lips sealed into a firm line. He knew his composure was falling apart. He wanted so very much to believe Stephen would be there for him again, and that he could once again turn to him for comfort. 

He was angry, still. Bitter to the core. But he was beginning to find it difficult to show it. 

“Hosuh, I... I wasn’t truthful to you, even while you gave me your all and told me everything. You let me see the parts of you that you keep hidden away, buried away so deep within you. You were so willing to be vulnerable with me around, and so, so trusting... you trusted me. So much. But I didn’t cherish that. I didn’t safeguard that.”

His voice was so quiet. He was straining to keep it steady, Hosuh could tell. He refused to look at him, instead focusing on forcing his tears back. He still felt it, the urge to let his defences down; the urge to forgive just so they could go back to the way they were. But he pushed it down.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be the same way with you. I left you hanging, I left you waiting on me, I kept your hopes up. The truth is, Hosuh, I can never be the one for you. I’m not... the same. I’m not the same as any other person on the streets, Hosuh. I can’t let you in, even as much as I want to. I can’t ever get too close, for both our sakes. Please, Hosuh, trust me one more time. One _last_ time. There’s a good reason why I have to keep it this way.” 

He sounded so pained, Hosuh had to admit. He’d never heard Stephen sound this fragile before. Some part of it must have been genuine.

“I know, it must sound so... full of bullshit. But I haven’t treated you well at all, and I’m aware of it. I never even left you a proper goodbye. I might sound so self-piteous, but I regret everything I’ve done. So much. I’ve probably said this before, or maybe I haven’t; in another world, in another life, in another universe, I would do everything for you. I would be by your side when you needed it, and I would live life together with you, and I would share as many experiences with you as I can only dream of now. Gladly.”

The breath he took was shaky. The breath Hosuh took was no different. 

“I’ve come to realise that, over time. You mean the world to me, Hosuh. I know, I know, it sounds so fake after everything I’ve done to you. But it was you who showed me what life looks like. What being normal and being able to have fun and being happy looks like. You’ve shown me that there’s something worth living life for. You’re so full of sunshine, even when you’ve faced the darkest of skies. You’ve shown me what tenacity is, what staying true to your virtues in the midst of hardship looks like. You’ve shown me what a good person is like, Hosuh. Because of you, I’ve seen so many things I never would have seen otherwise. Like what love looks like, how it feels like to be cared for, to be wanted, to enjoy time with someone else as much as I enjoy time with you. I really, really want to spend my time with you. I want to devote my entire life and being to you, Hosuh. Please, believe me.” 

Hosuh brought himself to steal a glance at the man standing in front of him. There were tears matted across his face. 

He’d never seen those dark eyes look so despairing before. 

“Th-thank you, Hosuh. Thank you so, so much. Thank you for all the time we’ve spent together. For everything you’ve given me. I - I’ll remember it, for sure. For the rest of my life, I —” 

He cut himself off, his voice growing too tight and incoherent. Turning away quickly, his face was turned toward the ceiling, a hand splayed across his cheek, trying to get the tears to stop flowing.

It did not work. 

It was as if something ripped apart inside of Hosuh. He couldn’t stop his own tears, either. Just a few moments ago he was burning with rage — he still was angry, of course — but now what he felt was plain sorrow. There was no better word. 

The regret in Stephen’s eyes, the desperation in his voice — they were too overwhelming to be false.

He didn’t know what got to him as he hurried over to where Stephen was standing, throwing his arms around his neck and tugging his head into his shoulder. Curse his kindness, but yet he knew that that was what he wanted too. 

Stephen resisted, at first, but the moment Hosuh’s gentle fingers stroked through his hair, he could only melt into the touch. He didn’t know what else to do other than cling on hopelessly, knowing this would be the last time he would touch his one and only love. 

They both sobbed, holding on to each other as tightly as they could, as if it could change their fates. It was impossible to tell who cried more. Neither of them wanted to let go, even though there were so many things keeping them apart. 

Every time Stephen muttered a “thank you” in between gasps for air, Hosuh could only let out pathetic whimpers and gulp down breaths. 

He wanted him. So, so much. 

Their hearts beat as one, just in the most tragic way possible. 

How much time had passed since 8.30pm in the evening, neither of them knew. They were crumpled on the floor together, still holding on to each other with unrelenting grips. Their crying had been reduced to small sniffles and tiny whimpers as they rocked each other gently back and forth while they sat in front of the counter, collapsed in each other’s arms. They had run out of tears a long while ago.

It was a long time before Hosuh could bring himself to speak again. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, but he forced his words out nonetheless. 

Rubbing Stephen’s arm absently over his blazer, he said, “So... you’re leaving? For real?” 

From the position they were in, entangled within each other’s arms, Hosuh couldn’t see Stephen’s face. He could only feel Stephen’s hot breath as he nuzzled his neck and inhaled deeply before nodding against his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” His voice alone was enough to notice the pain he felt. 

“H-How long more?” 

“About four days.” 

Hosuh gulped, feeling the tears sting his eyes again. It was so utterly stupid, and he was still a little bitter over what had happened, but Stephen was so _sad_ it couldn’t be possible that he was only playing with his heart.

“Are you sure you can’t... stay?” 

Stephen’s voice trembled as he spoke, “No. I want to, trust me. But I really, really can’t, Hosuh. I... You’ll find someone better, anyway. Someone who can love you right.” 

Hosuh wanted to scream, wanted to beg him to stay. He wanted to tell him that no, all he wanted was for him to be there, and that he wanted to spend more time with him. That there would be no one better. 

But he was too tired to say anything. He could only shake his head and cry more. 

Stephen straightened, lifting his head off of Hosuh’s shoulder. Raising a thumb to his cheek, he wiped as much of the fresher tears he could off of Hosuh’s reddened face. His strokes were so light, so gentle, so... loving. 

His eyes, by contrast, were dark and urgent. 

“But I... Let me say this, please? I know there will be someone who will tell you this every day, right when you wake up, before you go to bed. There’ll be someone who’ll give you all the kisses I never could, who could show you all the love I never could, but Hosuh...” 

The hand cupping his cheek was so warm. 

“I love you, Hosuh.”

He let out a little gasp, the most he could manage in his bleary state.

“It didn’t even feel like it, at first. I mean, I’m probably rushing all of this and telling you this on a whim because I’m leaving, but I don’t mean it any less. I know it’ll be worthless to you in a while once you find your special someone, but it means the world to me. You mean everything to me, Hosuh. I’ve always wanted to protect you, to show you life isn’t as bad as you’ve had it, but turns out you’ve been the one doing that for me. I didn’t even realise I loved you until I did. I would spend the rest of my days with you, Hosuh. But all good things must come to an end, so... this is it, I guess.”

Hosuh must have looked so stupid, sitting with his legs wrapped around Stephen’s waist, staring with eyes that threatened to spill tears. Stephen didn’t look much better either, with his dried tears from bloodshot eyes sticking his hair to his face. His chapped lips were pulled into a soft smile, thumb caressing his face. 

“C-Can I kiss you?” came his voice, quiet and gentle and filled to the brim with indescribable emotion. 

Hosuh was the one to close the gap between the two of them. The kiss was firm, their lips slotting over each other’s perfectly with the taste of salty tears mingling in between. He had never had a kiss like this, filled with the strange mix of love and sadness. It was over almost as soon as it began, and Hosuh already had begun to miss it. 

And they would never have such touches again, he had to accept.

The sky was pitch black save for the glow of streetlights by the time they found it within themselves to unwrap themselves from each other and stand on wobbly feet. It was as if all life had been drained out of Hosuh. He’d forgotten his anger, his frustration, and now all he wanted was to return to Stephen’s embrace. 

The hands on his hips gripped him firmly; a last squeeze. 

“Before I go, Hosuh, I’ve got something for you,” Stephen spoke, forcing a smile, his voice cracking. He looked towards the floor, searching for his long-forgotten messenger bag he brought for work all the time. Bending down to retrieve it from somewhere nearby, he pried it open with clumsy hands and reached inside. There was a crinkling of plastic. 

He pulled out a tiny plant in one of the small brown pots Hosuh used in his shop. A startling realisation came to him. It was the small Cereus cactus Hosuh sold to Stephen the first time he met him. 

“It’s not dead, darling. I think... you should have it. I can’t bring it with me, anyway. Maybe — it’s selfish to say this, I know — maybe it’ll remind you of me.” Stephen’s voice was a bare whisper. 

Hosuh could feel his bottom lip wobble, the telltale sign of crying. He slid his arms down from around Stephen’s neck and cupped the little plant gently, staring into it as his eyes welled up with tears again. 

He felt a light kiss being pressed onto his forehead, and he could only let out a small whimper. 

“Thank you, Hosuh. I — I’ll take my leave now. It’s late; you should go rest.” There was that sad smile on his face again, and the same fond gaze in his eyes. 

“Au revoir, my love. Till we meet again.” 

He’d never felt so empty before, as he felt the warmth from Stephen’s body leave him, the air turning colder by the second. He couldn’t bear to watch the figure slowly disappearing into the night, moving further and further away from him. 

He could only hold onto the little cactus Stephen had been so happy to receive, hands trembling, knees weak, weeping bitterly as he stood.

———

There were multiple envelops laid out on the table in front of Ann, all stamped with the interpol insignia with a big white sticker that wrote “strictly confidential” on them. She pried them open one by one, leafing through the papers briskly and set them down. 

“As per Daniel’s request, we’ve procured intel from Singapore in regards to the case of the missing Lim family, comprising of Joseph Lim, Teresa Lim and their children. We’ve managed to subpoena the authorities in Singapore for all information regarding the Singaporeans in question, and they were willing to give up the info anyway. Here we have all transactions on the electronics that the Lim had before they moved here. We’ve also got their biometrics, their health records, everything,” she said, gesturing for the rest seated around the conference table to take the documents. 

Daniel reached over and read through one of them at random. He’d picked up the folder on electronic transactions, including online activity such as purchases, email and text message communications. 

“Better be grateful, Daniel,” he heard Ann say and she sat down, reading through a few documents herself. 

He hummed in response, thumbing the corner of his sheet of paper. 

What interested him most was the most recent correspondences via text message on Joseph’s and Teresa’s phones. They had been talking to an alleged friend before they left Singapore for Montreal. From what he had read through, he could tell that friend had been working to convince both of them to move over to Montreal over the past year. 

He needed more time to go over this, definitely. Making a list down in his head, he was to read through all the documents, confirm that this friend was from the cartel, and find a way to connect it to Stephen, his target. Perhaps he could take Stephen’s biometrics somehow, and send it for a forensic test to check it against Stephen Lim’s that he had here. That was the easiest way to go about it, definitely. 

“So Daniel,” Ann began, placing down her papers and crossing her hands on the table, “What are your thoughts?” 

The entirety of the Montreal Criminal Investigations Department turned to him, expecting a reply. He knew none of hem, and so the eyes upon him only brought more discomfort. But he knew he had to seem confident in order to impress.

“I’ll have to spend a few hours here reading everything, definitely. But I already see some signs of coercion, over a long period of time, on Joseph and Teresa,” he waved the paper he had in his hand, “and I intend to work to confirm if this person is connected to the cartel. I could get in touch with the whistleblowers in Vancouver after getting clearance from police there to ask if they knew about this, or search up his identity on databases and such. I could also track the number using resources at my disposal. Additionally I’ve got Stephen Lim’s biometrics here, so this would be a good time to initiate further contact with my target, get non-fabricated biometrics from him and send those to a forensics lab to see if they match up.” 

Nods of understanding went round the table, and he continued, “Even though this man posing as Stephen Lim has accurate biometrics listed on his Canadian passport that he renewed at 16 years of age, which is a few years after the case of Joseph and Teresa’s disappearance, it’s impossible he changed and updated his biology to present that currently. It’s impossible he’s that prepared as of now to have the correct fingerprints on all of his objects, or the accurate palm prints, hairs, things like that.”

“Classic Private Investigator, eh?” Ann mused, leaning back in here chair, “This is exciting. Daniel, go make a crime movie already.” 

Chuckles reverberated around the conference room. 

Ann continued, “You’re basically relying on the hunch that this Stephen stole Stephen Lim’s identity, right? So the positive result would be that his biometrics don’t match up. But what if they do, though? I’ve seen cases where people graft a corpse’s fingertip onto their fingers for the sake of concealing their identity. As far-fetched as it sounds, it’s happened. And what’s the odds of having a good sample of hair? You do know just a one little strand of hair isn’t enough to trace DNA; the roots must be present in multiple strands.” 

“I’m aware, yes. Right now what I’ve got is the confirmation that the man I have my eyes on is indeed the son of the cartel, based on inside info. He lives under the name Stephen Lim, but now I’m trying to subvert that fact by proving the identity was someone else’s. That itself lends credence to the statement that this man is the Ngs’ son, because why else would he have fabricated an identity? If proven that Stephen Lim and the identity he’s built around himself is someone else’s, that already gives us — no, you — a valid reason to issue an arrest warrant, and take him into custody. We’ll also be able to say that he was complicit in the possible murder of Stephen Lim’s family and Stephen Lim himself, as long as the court can declare them dead in absentia. Or maybe they have already; I’ll see from these documents. Accessory to murder, whether before or after the fact, is a sound conclusion to make. It’s definitely arguable in court, because this man literally has the identity of the son of the deceased parties. After you arrest him, we can question him regarding his true identity, the cartel, and then milk so many answers out of him. Do you see where I’m headed?” 

He looked around the table. Curious eyes peered at him, and Ann looked over with impish, knowing glee. 

“I don’t need to directly prove that he’s connected to the cartel now. The evidence links it up for me eventually. This derivation isn’t straightforward, because there _is no_ straightforward answer.” 

“He’s right. We’re dealing with a cartel that’s been flourishing for over three generations. If this is what is takes to bring them down, then so be it. We’ll leave the questioning of this son of the cartel to later, and that will be our responsibility. Does anyone have anything to add?” Ann said, looking around at the members of her department. People shook their heads. 

“Then I trust you know what you’re doing, Daniel. Should you need anything, be it arms or more intel, contact us. You know what’s one thing I like to say about investigative work?” 

Daniel cocked his head, beckoning for an answer.

“Be the puppeteer of your marionnettes. I came up with it in a fever dream one night and I’m very proud of it. It’s highly effective, though. I’m sure you get what I mean.” There was a glint in her eye, vaguely malicious, but not threatening towards him in particular. 

Of course he knew what she meant. No one was indispensable, especially not in the line of work they were in. He was to use the people on his playing field, manipulate them until he got what he wanted in the name of justice. Ann knew the exact nature of his connections to Stephen. She knew he was close friends to the (low-key) boyfriend of his target, and she was saying that it would only be effective to use him to initiate contact with Stephen so that he could work his plan. 

He knew it was wrong, but he was doing so much right in the process. Surely it couldn’t be as bad as he thought it was? 

Ann declared the meeting over quickly enough, and Daniel was allowed to look through the files at one of the empty desks in the office closest to Ann’s partitioned workspace. He found it difficult to concentrate, however. His eyes would leave the pages, staring off into the distance, peering at anything other than the words in small font. He couldn’t help but think about Ann’s words.

To be a puppeteer was to forsake attachment.

But he recalled the way Stephen looked at Hosuh. His gaze had been soft and filled with wonder and admiration and love. Even as Daniel was prepared to use Hosuh to get close to Stephen, would Stephen do the same to Hosuh for his own gain? Something told him no.

What kind of person did that make Daniel, then? He was the face of justice in this case, but yet his morals sunk lower than a drug lord’s progeny. 

He recalled the way Hosuh spoke about him. The soft brushes of his fingers against the thick braid, warmth filling his eyes and a genuine smile gracing his lips. It was as if Stephen gave him a world of happiness. And if Dan were to use him, destroy the trust Hosuh had in his only friend, _and_ rip away the one thing that gave him joy from him, even after all he’d been through? 

What _was_ he?

He stayed in the office for a pretty long time, if he’d read the hands of the clock correctly. Most people had already left the office, leaving chairs pushed in and desks neatly arranged. It was a little past 10pm, and he knew he wasn’t going to get anything more done. The documents were not to be brought anywhere else, so he had to come back tomorrow to finish reading them. 

Just as he began to sort them and place them into their envelopes, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out to check it, he was surprised to see who it was from. He picked it up immediately, heart dropping at the shaky voice that came through.

“Dan?” the voice Daniel recognised as Hosuh’s said, quiet and brittle.

Dan straightened, holding the phone closer to his ear and then stilling completely. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“He’s leaving, Dan. Stephen’s leaving,” Hosuh muttered with a sniffle, “I can’t — _Daniel_.” He trailed off, voice breaking.

Dan could only feel his head spin. 

“What? Hosuh, he’s leaving, as in —”

“He’s going to live somewhere else, Dan, I don’t know where but I really, really don’t want him to go,” Hosuh replied, “He told me he loved me, Dan, but he’s leaving and I —”

There were too many things going on right now. Far too many. 

“Hosuh, _what_?” 

A deep inhale come in from the other end. “Sorry. Sorry. He just came in to the shop a few hours ago. Said sorry and all and told me he was leaving but he told me he loved me but he had to leave. I don’t know why, Dan, why do all these things have to happen to me? It’s so _difficult_ , Dan, I —”

Dan was on the brink of screaming, and Hosuh was on the verge of a crying fit. Daniel sat down a little too forcefully, breathing slowly and steadily to centre himself. He could not afford to lose his target, not now. He was too close. He didn’t even know where Stephen would be going to. 

“Alright, alright, calm down, Hosuh. Where are you?” 

“In the shop.” 

“Do you think you can go upstairs and wash your face and go rest for now?”

“Okay.” 

“How long does he have before he leaves? Did he say?”

“Four days, about.” 

“Okay,” Daniel said, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “Okay. I’m going to go to your place. I’ll speak to him in the morning.”

And just to make sure Hosuh thought this was still about him, he added deliberately, “He can’t do this to you.” 

The last thing Daniel wanted was for Stephen to slip out of his grasp. His main objective was to secure his target. He was already too close to being able to arrest Stephen for him to waste another month or more finding out where he was and recalibrating. 

“Are you sure?” came the voice on the line, “It’s okay. I can handle it.”

“I’m going over. It’s nearby anyway. Hang in there. Go sleep,” came Daniel’s response, every bit as rushed and insincere as it seemed.

Hosuh took a breath and hung up, and Daniel immediately sprung to action. He swept all the documents into the envelopes and kept them in the drawer under his desk. 

He bolted out the office door. He would attend to Hosuh first, and pretend that that was the most important thing on his mind. 

He could not let Stephen leave. He would do everything in his power to keep him here and finish what he started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys!
> 
> I’m so sorry to keep you waiting! It’s been almost 2 months but now exams are finally over and this is Chapter 8.
> 
> I know this chapter in particular has a lot of technical terms sorry!  
> Death in absentia: declaring death after a period of absence after fulfilling specific criteria  
> Accessory before the fact: a person who helps someone commit a felony before it’s committed (eg help plan it)  
> Accessory after the fact: a person who helps after it’s committed (eg not report to police)  
> Au revoir (not a technical term but French): directly translated as “till we see each other again”. I thought it was befitting. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support this fic has been getting. It means a lot to me so please continue leaving comments to tell me what you think!


	9. Author’s Note

Hello everyone, 

This isn’t an update to the story; it isn’t the chapter 9 you’ve all been waiting for. I just have a few words to share, regarding the rest of this book, Stephen’s situation, and some other matters which I hope you will listen to. It is rather lengthy, but I will appreciate your patience, offered to me once more. 

First of all, I offer my sincerest apologies for not updating for so long. My only reason is that my life has been overrun by so many external issues such as my family situation, and my personal mental health which has been waning as of late. I would like to thank you all for waiting so patiently and thank you, really, for your understanding. 

Now for matters regarding this book. I won’t be continuing to write this book because it doesn’t feel right to me to continue writing a story as if Stephen is still a part of DanPlan, or as if nothing happened at all. To me, it feels insensitive and irresponsible. Stephen himself has said in his recent stream that he doesn’t want to be associated with the rest of DanPlan anymore, and despite him saying that it’s okay to continue AUs, fanart and fanfiction about him and with him in them, I personally don’t think it’s the right thing to do. Many other issues must be settled between Daniel and Stephen, and the fandom before I can continue to do this.

A major part of this story that affected my decision in discontinuing the story is the way Daniel is portrayed. He is antagonistic here, with grey morality. Stephen leaving Montreal in this story, and being manipulated and exploited to give Daniel what he wants in the story hits a little too close to home. It is my worry that it would add fuel to the fire, especially since my story has a relatively large number of people reading it. I doubt the fandom needs anymore negative sentiments. 

Perhaps in the future, when issues are resolved and the dust settles from this fight, I will find it in my heart to continue writing this story. 

With that said, I have, however, planned out the entire story of Manhunt from start to end, including details like conversations, the fate of the Hosuh x Stephen ship in the fic. I’ve also written short snippets that I would have used in the story, including the final epilogue. As such, I have a suggestion. 

Should you want me to post this material first, I’ll be more than willing to. Take it as a closure to Manhunt, and a thank you to all of you who have taken time to read my story, cry, laugh, and seethe with it, as well as left kudos and comments which bring me so much joy. As a writer I must take responsibility for the art I produce and the stories that I weave and imprint in your minds. I at least owe you an ending. Posting my notes, snippets, and whatever else I have will not go into detail about Dan’s morality and actions in the story, so as to not somehow fan the flames. It’ll serve only as a way to give closure to this story that I’ve started, and allow you to come away feeling more satisfied about it. 

If you’d like me to do so, leave a comment and I’ll make a decision. There will be no promises that I will finish writing the story proper even after that. 

If you’ll allow, I’d like to also share my sentiments regarding this story. There is a part of me that regrets not finishing it earlier. If everything had gone to plan, if I had written everything before the end of december, I would still be able to post the entirety of the story without worrying about whether or not it was right to, and take responsibility and show genuine care for this work. It sort of feels like I’m abandoning it after 3000 (and more!) of you have read the story. It feels like I’m brushing aside the efforts of all of you who’ve bothered to become invested in the little story I spun in my own imagination and decided to pen down. It feels like I’m undermining the efforts of my friend (in real life) who’s dedicated time to read every chapter of my book before I released it and give me her opinions. She’s not only done that for Manhunt, but also read through every single idea and pitch I’ve had for other stories, including a story in the medieval times with war as the primary backdrop, and another one set in the modern times where the danplan crew are contemporary music stars. It hurts me, which is why I want to do the best I can to provide closure to this story without offending or overstepping the boundaries of Stephen and Danplan.

I think it is appropriate to give my opinions in regards to the whole Stephen-leaving-Danplan fiasco. To me, the most important thing right now is to exercise maturity in the way we handle our emotions. Stephen leaving was a shock to us. Perhaps it invoked anger. Sadness, maybe. Regret, surprise, bitterness. All of them are natural. However they are not an excuse to lash out at Daniel, or at anybody at all. Unsubscribing or not watching DanPlan content is solely your decision to not support a channel whose founder’s actions you may not agree with. It is ultimately a relatively harmless decision, completely unlike sending death threats and impolitely demanding that an explanation be given. With that said, I personally believe Daniel should be given a chance to explain himself, perhaps apologise, perhaps disprove what Stephen has said. We are in no position to get between them, question them or other members of DanPlan, and all in all the only thing we can do is request for Daniel to say something in a polite manner and wait. This is between Stephen and Daniel and they are being kind when they decide to update us and let us in on their situation.

With that said, I remember I made a promise I desperately wanted to keep, in the past. I wanted to finish this story no matter what. But with the way things are, I want to apologise for not being able to do that. I know so many of you have come to love this story. So many of you have left wonderful, respectful comments that tell me how you feel and spur me on to continue writing even when I think what I’ve written is not up to standard, or when I lack the motivation. Your words and care for this story honestly make me tear up when I realise my work, my stories, my art, the crazy little dreams about DP characters the kid writing this fic has, were getting recognition and love from the rest of the community. So I want to say thank you, for what could be the last time. 

Thank you. So, so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the story so far. Things will get more interesting, trust me. 
> 
> I’d really like to hear from you all regarding this work as well! Thank you so much :)


End file.
